Tag: philosophy

  • Seeing the Driver Within: Self-Awareness as a Way of Life

    This is an essay about something we hear daily, in every motivational video, every honest podcast, even in conversations with friends, partners, or children.

    It’s self-awareness.

    Everyone talks about it, but few truly engage with it. It’s often mistaken for a punishment , considered a burden, a summit to conquer, a painful confrontation with the self.

    People assume self-awareness is anti-ego, a punch to one’s pride.

    How can I have issues? Aren’t I a decent human being? Why should I worry about how my behavior affects others? Am I not troubled by them too?

    We tell ourselves, “We can just move past it. Forget it. Shove it. Drink on it. Sleep on it. Everything but deal with it? Why bother?”

    We’ve built a culture of zero accountability. A myth that our personalities are fixed at birth, that children act out because it’s in their genes, that adults are how they are because God made them that way. So why change? Why even try?

    I believed these things once. But then I learned.

    There’s extensive research on this, human behavior isn’t just a random trait; it’s largely acquired. Yes, acquired, not “owned,” not “innate.”

    Our behaviors are deeply influenced by:

    1. Where and when we were born – the country, the city, the traditions, the safety or danger level of our environment.
    2. Our family structure – how we were raised, whether the home was loving or dysfunctional, healthy or chaotic.
    3. Financial conditions and parental health — how much stress existed in the house, how much care children received.
    4. Education and peer groups — the kind of schooling and societal pressures we were exposed to.
    5. Safety and trauma — including exposure to crime, abuse, or neglect.

    Even in good homes, other subtle forces shape us:

    1. The food we eat, the boundaries set, the moral values passed on.
    2. Whether we were taught to handle emotions or suppress them.
    3. If we had access to safe adults or relied on friends and media for guidance.
    4. If we were encouraged to ask questions or silenced for being difficult.

    And then there are the negatives:

    1. Did we grow up in chaos and develop coping mechanisms just to survive?
    2. Were we expected to raise ourselves – or worse, our parents and siblings?
    3. Were our choices constantly shamed, our emotions dismissed, our voices unheard?
    4. Did we watch our caregivers ignore their health, never take breaks, or suppress their own feelings with addictions?

    Hence, even the tiniest patterns in daily life come from this early conditioning. A child who was never nurtured may grow up not knowing how to care for themselves.

    Whether you take a bath every day or not , yes, even that, might trace back to your upbringing.

    Children who weren’t taught how to deal with emotions may end up looking fine on the outside, but are numbing on the inside. They might throw themselves into books, sports, or art, not out of passion, but as a survival technique.

    Others may go down darker paths like addiction, crime, or dangerous behavior. Some are calling for attention. Others are trying to silence their own minds.

    But all of them need guidance – until at least the age of 25 – to make sense of life.

    As adults, our personalities ,be it good and bad, are shaped by these early scripts.

    They influence our career choices, relationships, addictions, emotional patterns, even how we handle food, rest, or routine.

    So does this mean we’re off the hook? Not at all.

    It means: if someone asks you to look into your behavior, take a pause. Don’t defend or attack. Reflect.

    If you grew up in a home with an unstable food situation, you might now overeat, undereat, cling to certain foods, or feel disconnected from food altogether. That’s not shameful. It’s a story. A root.

    And self-awareness means noticing it, not blaming yourself for it.

    You can still have personal preferences, but if a behavior is hurting you or your relationships, wouldn’t it help to understand why?

    Self-awareness is not an apology letter. It’s not a TED Talk you deliver to everyone around you.

    It’s a personal manual you quietly update. It means you choose knowledge over ignorance, introspection over projection.

    It doesn’t make you better or worse than anyone else. It just makes you a work-in-progress, like all of us.

    It creates space for kindness, because once you see a trait in someone, you begin to ask: “What story does this belong to?” Instead of judging, maybe we offer a little grace.

    And even if we decide to step back, we don’t carry resentment.

    This isn’t abstract talk. Self-awareness is one of the most powerful tools we have to live an intentional life. In tough times or big decisions, a little backtracking into our behavioral roots can change the game.

    And if we can’t decode it ourselves , that’s why professionals exist.

    But we must understand: self-awareness is an investment. Its effects are subtle, but lifelong.

    It won’t transform you overnight, but it will transform your life.

    And if, as families or communities, we begin to live this way, the ripple effect would be magical. A near-utopia.

    Imagine if we truly understand ourselves. We’d know our emotional switches. We’d know what version of us needs to show up, and when.

    We’d respond, not react.

    We wouldn’t be living on autopilot. We’d be manually cruising.

    And how cool is that?

  • May Be We Meet Again: Parallel Lives and the Journey of the Soul

    We live under the illusion of closeness, but perhaps no two souls ever truly meet. We orbit, we intertwine, we collide in emotion, in time, in memory, yet remain untouched at the core.

    Like parallel lines, we move close enough to feel fused, yet never lose our separateness.

    Love, friendship, marriage and even ‘bhakti’/devotion to god ,they promise union. But is union ever real, or is it a longing? 

    A dream of dissolving into someone else, only to return to ourselves more aware of the space that separates?

    In the dance of destiny, maybe it’s not about merging but witnessing, walking beside, never within. The ache we feel isn’t always from disconnection, but from the illusion that connection must erase the self.

    The geometry of relationships

    As children, we seek fusion. We want to be held so closely that there is no boundary between us and the world.

    But adulthood demands a quiet reckoning: that no matter how deeply we love, how long we stay, or how fiercely we feel, we remain distinctly ourselves. 

    This is not a failure of connection, but perhaps its highest form, to be known without vanishing, to be loved without dissolving.

    Relationships then become less about becoming one, and more about walking parallel, close, attuned, affected, yet sovereign.

    Romantically, we often chase the fantasy of completion. When we fall in love, there’s a hunger, to be engulfed, or to engulf.

    We want to devour and be devoured, physically and emotionally. 

    But even the most intense love can end in a painful fallout. Hearts shatter. The pain feels irreparable, and sometimes, maybe it is. Yet even if there is no falling out, even when passion is shared, yet there is a feeling of emptiness. 

    It feels even after pouring your cup completely, something in you still remains, untouched, undisturbed, unspilled.

    And that what remains is the ‘I’ which never loses itself, no matter how much we try to give it away.

    Sometimes we come across those friendships that make us believe we can’t function without the other. We cling. We depend. Our happiness and sadness depend on the existence of others.

    These siamese twins are not conjoined physically, but in emotion.

    And then the lore of marriage. The popular belief that marriage is the goal which will lead to the bliss that everyone has the right to. But even when love fades in a marriage, we hold onto the belief that this person is our eternal anchor, still our savior, the messiah. 

    And despite this yearning and this effort to keep the relationship intact, this bond frays, the warmth goes away. The hope to attain this ultimate bliss quietly diminishes.

    We may emotionally be hanging on by a thread, even if, officially, the relationship stays intact.

    When I try to reach God

    Spiritually, when we speak of merging with a higher power or becoming one with all, this idea rests on a profound paradox. In non-dual traditions like Advaita Vedanta and certain schools of Buddhism, the individual soul is not separate from the ultimate reality, it is the higher power. The boundaries between “I” and “other” dissolve; there is only oneness. 

    The self is seen as an illusion, and awakening means realizing that soul and divine are one and the same. Probably this is where our present form of amorous love takes inspiration from.

    At the same time, dualistic traditions such as Sufism and Vaishnavism speak of an eternal coexistence with the divine, where the soul remains distinct yet forever united with the ultimate source of love.

    In these paths, the “I” does not disappear but lives in a loving relationship with the beloved, the divine, never losing its identity even in transcendence.

    This tension, the paradox of unity and individuality, deeply shapes the spiritual journey. 

    How can personal bliss flourish when the self both dissolves into oneness and yet must remain distinct? 

    The very essence of personal joy and love seems to depend on the presence of a unique “I.”

    Is there an absolute answer?

    True bliss is found not in choosing between these different spiritual views but in embracing their coexistence: being one with everything, coexisting amicably with everything and also the one, yet profoundly oneself. 

    It is the delicate dance of merging and standing apart, finding peace in the mystery that the self can be infinite and intimate all at once.

    And that brings me to the metaphor of parallel lines. Lines that are impossibly close, running together for infinity, and yet, never meeting.

    This, I feel, is the nature of all human connection. We may walk side by side, but we do not merge. Our identities never fully dissolve.

    The “I” always remains

    I may give you everything but still something in me remains, which is mine, forever. And even I can’t erase it.

    Even the most submissive among us still carries an “I” that wants to exist. 

    Romantically, this realization may feel melancholic, never to melt into one with a soulmate.

    But spiritually, it’s almost magical, to feel union, while still remembering who we are.

    If there were no individuality, how would we even experience oneness?

    The vastness of ‘I’

    This sense of “I” is not ego. It’s awareness. The I that chooses relationships or the path to eternal bliss.

    It’s the part that lets us appreciate connection without losing selfhood.

    If I extend this back to earthly relationships, it challenges the fairytale endings that were sold.

    Passionate love is supposed to mean becoming one, souls merging, personalities entwined. But maybe the real bliss comes from preserving awareness. 

    Of being two individuals, consciously choosing to flow together, not disappear into each other.

    The need to understand ‘I’

    At the risk of sounding too rational, sometimes, logic is the gateway to emotional and spiritual freedom. 

    The more I become aware of myself, the more clearly I can hear what my soul longs for, and move toward it, until it’s within reach.

    To understand this ‘I’, one needs inner work, spiritual and psychological. To let go of the ego which inhibits understanding of oneself, a deterrent in attaining true happiness. 

    When we make enough effort to realize who we are and what we want, it’s easier to decide which path to take to reach the ultimate goal that we have defined for our life.

    The evolving journey of ‘ours’

    The takeaway for me is this, life is a personal journey. Not necessarily alone, but always individual. You may want to consume someone, or be consumed. But you never truly can. 

    We co-exist, just like parallel lines. Sometimes infinitesimally close. Sometimes drifting apart. 

    And sometimes, like in non-Euclidean geometry, paths that were never aligned might finally meet, after an eternity.

    And maybe that’s the quiet beauty of it all. In a world where nothing truly fuses, we still reach. 

    That despite the certainty of separation, we still choose to walk, to witness, to love.

    That even if our paths never truly intersect, the nearness of another soul becomes its own kind of grace. 

    We orbit one another, not to complete, but to reflect, to remind, to remember that we were never meant to vanish into someone else, but to fully arrive in ourselves, again and again, alongside those who do the same.

    Perhaps we were never meant to merge, only to meet, like light through glass. Just passing through, never clinging, casting something beautiful in its wake.

  • Write Your Own Myth

    Storytelling Isn’t Just for Children

    Storytelling is an underrated art, often dismissed as mere entertainment or something reserved for teaching kids values. But have you ever noticed how we adults still use storytelling to guide our lives?

    Every Conversation Is a Story

    The gossip we indulge in, the content we engage with on social media, the way we talk about people, places, and ideas—our tone, expressions, and framing—all of it becomes a story.

    It reveals who we are: our likes, dislikes, philosophies, spiritual leanings, and passions.

    Even the person who sells you groceries starts forming a story about who you are, based on the narratives you live and tell.

    The Stories We Tell Shape Our Society

    But it doesn’t stop at revealing who we are. The stories we share, whether publicly or privately, shape the worldviews of those listening, consciously or subconsciously.

    A simple chat in a park or restaurant about a social issue gives passersby a glimpse into the kind of world their peers are helping create.

    When One Narrative Dominates

    When you hear only one kind of story, it leads to one kind of messaging. What you hear often becomes the path you follow, especially if you’re cut off from other perspectives.

    Without exposure to diverse cultures and experiences, we may never realize that different problems have different solutions, shaped by entirely different mindsets and traditions.

    The Hidden Influence of Popular Stories

    This shapes society in subtle but powerful ways.

    Stories influence:

    How we raise children

    Where and how they study

    How far people move

    How marriages happen

    What caste or religion is “acceptable”

    How beauty is defined

    How we treat our partners

    What jobs are considered respectable

    How old people should live

    What we expect from the government

    They shape our moral compass, set thresholds for outrage, and influence how we express dissent.

    Stories tell us whether we should only care for ourselves—or for our neighbor, too.

    They don’t just shape our happiness, they define how much abuse is “acceptable.”

    If the common narrative is about enduring suffering, speaking up becomes difficult unless your pain meets a certain threshold.

    The Tone of a Story Matters

    The impact of a story depends on its tone and delivery. Stories which are shared as obvious norms to be followed, quickly become the trend of the contemporary society. They are depicted as norms followed by the wise, rich and powerful of the society, so shouldn’t be questioned by common man.

    Some stories are amplified through loudspeakers, repeated on social media, organically or through paid campaigns, aimed at normalizing certain ideas or instilling fear.

    Others are spread quietly. These may be the stories that challenge the status quo, initiate cultural shifts, or simply deserve to be heard.

    Stories worth attention

    Maybe it’s the ones rooted in kindness, peace, and truth. The ones that don’t center power and ego but instead prioritize community, harmony, and creating space for everyone to thrive.

    Who Gets to Be Heard?

    If stories shape us so deeply, it’s worth asking: who gets to tell them? And who gets listened to?

    Ironically, popular stories often glorify conformity. They celebrate tradition, patriarchy, and dogmatism, while we simultaneously idolize past rebels who didn’t conform.

    History celebrates the antiheroes of their time, while the present vilifies today’s rebels.

    So, why don’t we listen to the rebels of today? Why are they being shunned? Aren’t they the ones trying to wake us up from the Matrix?

    If human and moral values are the mountaintop we aspire to, why are stories of violence, division, power struggles, and abuse interest us the most?

    Stories from Childhood

    If we look back, our ancient stories, even those about gods, often ask us to break norms in the name of compassion. Give up ego. Fight for those who can’t fight for themselves.

    Sometimes, even show kindness to the enemy.

    They teach us to choose right over wrong. And when faced with right vs. kind? Choose kind.

    But they also warn us: don’t be kind at the cost of yourself. Don’t tolerate abuse in the name of goodness either.

    These stories remind us: the power lies within us—to write our story, even if no one is listening.

    Are Our Stories Making Us More Humane?

    So we need to ask: are the stories we’re choosing to believe making us kinder and more humane—or simply repeating the traditional values of our ancestors, too scared or scary to question?

    The Discrimination of Stories

    Some people only want to hear one kind of story. They believe that denying all other perspectives makes their version more real. To them, their story is the absolute truth.

    But stories asking for change are often judged by who tells them.

    Is the storyteller “respectable”? Is the storyteller part of my social group? Are they acceptable by my peers?
    Does their story fit my comfort zone?

    If not, I won’t listen, because listening may require me to change. And change is uncomfortable.

    The Story of Me

    Stories have power. They touch our subconscious. They make us feel, even when we try not to. And those feelings demand reflection.

    What if you hear a story from someone you don’t like, and it moves you? What if it makes you empathize?

    That’s terrifying for some. It blurs the lines between good and bad, us and them.

    We grew up with stories that never asked us to change. We were told to follow them, like characters who never questioned the script. Our beliefs were handed to us. And because we didn’t choose them, questioning them now feels like betrayal.

    After all, we’re not gods or rebels—we’re “good people.” Raised not to be uncomfortable in the society that molded us.

    So we deny the uncomfortable stories. We pretend they don’t exist. We don’t share them, no matter how powerful, because we fear being rejected. Or we fear feeling like hypocrites.

    The story might force us to reassess our beliefs. And that’s hard.

    What if we lose our place in our social circle?
    What if we become the villain in someone else’s story?

    What If the Story of Rejection Becomes Our Story?
    What if they twist our truth and cast us as the demon?

    What if we’re not allowed to share our side of the truth?

    What if our children or descendants are humiliated because we dared to speak up?

    Leap of Faith

    But what if I believe in storytellers beyond my peers? What if stories transcend timelines?

    What I am depends on the audience—good or bad, right or wrong, rebel or revolutionary.

    Maybe I should trust the audience once. Trust their ability to hold space for my truth. Maybe they’re also tired of the same old stories, waiting for a new one.

    A story where the protagonist dares to try a different ending.

    What if you let go of fear and let destiny decide whether you’re remembered as a hero or a villain?

    What if the world, if not today, then someday, uses your story to awaken others?

    Aren’t we all standing on the shoulders of those who dared to write a different story?

    Final Word

    Maybe all that matters is giving your full self to at least one story, one where you are unapologetically you.

    Think you’re not worthy of a story?

    God may have written your destiny, but gave you the free will to shape its course.

    If you weren’t worthy, why would nature bother keeping you alive?

    The very fact that you’re here, reading this, means you have the power to change how your story ends.

    The choice was always yours.

    Maybe I’m the hero, the villain, the antihero, or even a silent spectator, in different stories.

    But I owe it to myself to be the true protagonist in at least one.

    The one that’s mine.

  • The Phoenix in Me

    Long-term trauma leaves you with no idea who you are. You keep coping, imitating, trying to become someone, maybe your ideal self, because you don’t know your original self, if something like that even exists.

    An authentic “you” doesn’t exist yet.

    And then, when you heal a little and build some self-worth, you feel even more lost. You don’t want to copy anymore, but you also don’t know who you truly are. You don’t like being told what’s wrong with you because, deep down, you feel it’s not your fault.

    You don’t know your weaknesses or strengths because, whatever they are, they’ve just been your way of surviving all this time.

    It takes years, sometimes decades, to figure out what you should and shouldn’t be. And while you’re stuck in that process, life keeps passing by. Once again, you feel left behind. Once again, you’re missing the boat.

    People say, “You can be anything.” But how do you even choose what to be? If you had a personality to begin with, maybe you could just hone it. But when you have to build a whole new one from scratch? That’s something else entirely.

    You’re physically clumsy, mentally even worse, and sometimes only you can see that. The weight of that invisible struggle crushes your confidence. The confusion drains you. The embarrassment, of not knowing yourself, becomes something only you can feel, because others have no idea what it’s like.

    It’s a lonely journey. A dark, small, lonely room in the corner of existence. And the only way to turn the light on is from the outside, by letting in acceptance.

    Acceptance of who you are. Acceptance of the hope that you could be anything. No matter how much you want to escape this room, you can’t unless you carry acceptance with you- everywhere, probably forever.

    And yes, acceptance is heavy too. It puts the responsibility on you. But is it worth it? Maybe. I have yet to see. But sitting alone in this room doesn’t feel good either.

    Decades might pass, and only a few will bother to knock on this door. Even fewer, maybe just one, might try to break it open.

    But is waiting for that person really worth it?

    Instead of expecting someone else to save you, isn’t it better to walk out yourself?

    Carry your own burden, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll find someone who’s carrying a similar one. Or someone who, even without their own burden, is willing to help with yours.

    Life is difficult, but maybe not as unbearable as it seems. If nothing else, we can learn to be our own best company, carrying ourselves through the weight of it all.

    And maybe—just maybe—one day, it won’t feel as heavy anymore.

  • Ant- The Teacher

    Once upon a time there was a boy named ray. Ray was a very inquisitive boy who always wanted to learn something new.

    Ray’s father was a small time mechanic in the local garage and he did not earn so much that he could keep up with Ray’s learning needs.

    One day Ray was really upset, feeling neglected that his family could not provide him with all of his wishes and needs. While he was complaining to god about all this, he saw a bunch of ants trying to lift a big sugar cube. What he saw inspired him for his life.

    Next day he ran an idea with his close group of friends. That’s how Ray’s Rental started. They started to rent their own toys and books and other things at a nominal price, which kids of their age would require and couldn’t afford to buy otherwise. This way not one person had to endure the burden of the whole thing, just like ants where a group helped to carry the cube not just one ant.

    Not only sharing your burden financially or emotionally helps ease one’s life but also it builds a thriving community where everyone is aware of each other’s needs and every one of the members of the community do their part to make everyone happy.

  • Prisoners Of The Mind: The Human Struggle

    The trouble with life is that it is made up of numerous moments. When times are good, you enjoy being in the moment, but when things aren’t going your way, every moment feels like a punishment. Life seems like a prison, and you become a slave to it.

    You keep banging your head against the invisible walls of time, trying to understand what led you here. It becomes even more difficult when you consider yourself a thinker-logical and rational-someone who can’t accept an irrational explanation for their problems. Yet, there often seems to be no rational reason for the random unpleasant events in life.

    How and when psychology became a rational branch is something that makes me wonder because, most of the time, when you can’t perform due to an emotionally troubled state, people call you useless or lazy. If psychology is the culprit, why shouldn’t a person see themselves as a victim, victim of their own mind or time, victim of their own evolution, which made them sensitive to others, victim of anything that now seems to be a self-fulfilling prophecy?

    While people strive to be part of groups where they are truly in touch with their inner selves, a person who is authentically themselves at all times is often labeled impulsive. Why is everything paradoxical when it comes to real practices in the world? Every ritual has two sides: one bad and the other worse, yet we are forced to choose.

    When we begin to understand what we lack, we find ourselves at the brink of killing our own ideals. Once we realize that this lack is the cause of our troubles, it becomes difficult to act against it because doing so feels like acting against ourselves, against the truth. And everyone has a different version of the truth, yet everyone wants you to accept their version while you keep wondering: isn’t truth supposed to be absolute?

    Perhaps this is where we make the mistake. Maybe it’s not the truth we are offering or believing, but rather an explanation. And explanations change with time, according to our understanding of the problems.

    Maybe the key to everything is knowledge, awareness. The more we get to know things, directly and remotely related to our situation, the better we will be at accepting what brought us here.

    And maybe, then, our tombstones won’t silently read: “Still searching for a reason.”

  • Masters Of The Stage Or Masters Of Fate?

    I am a novice when it comes to acting. Not only did I hold various assumptions about the talent required, thinking it was no big deal, but I also believed acting was for those who couldn’t do anything else.

    Recently, I had an epiphany, a newfound respect for actors, when I realized that acting isn’t just impromptu. It’s rehearsed. And it’s not just a monologue all the time. There is a group of people working together to present a real-life situation in the most convincing way possible. I now understand why the term “timing” was coined.

    An actor already knows what will come next, yet they still hold the expressions the scene demands. They know their next line, but they wait patiently for their turn, responding as though hearing it for the first time. And while they wait, they don’t look bored or fake their reactions, they seem to be immersed in that character and that’s the mark of a great actor.

    This got me thinking about the mystery in our own lives. What if we knew what was coming next? Could we still stay present and play our part convincingly?

    If we knew we were going to die, get hurt, or lose everything, could we still be as happy in the present moment as we are now, oblivious to the future? Personally, I doubt that about myself.

    If we can’t even be good actors in the small plays of life, how could we expect to be good humans if we knew our fate beforehand? Would living still be as exhilarating if we knew exactly how it would unfold?

    Actors don’t just play one role in their lifetime, they embody many. With each character, they get to live as sinners and saints, lovers and villains. They don’t just recite lines; they feel what their characters feel, diving deep into the emotional and spiritual depths of those experiences. Maybe that gives them an unusual perspective, a glimpse into different kinds of human existence. They witness what it means to be selfish or selfless, cruel or kind, broken or whole.

    In real life, they probably get to choose who they want to be, based on those experiences.

    And that made me wonder—as humans, do we experience something similar? If we believe in multiple lifetimes, could it be that, deep down, we remember the lessons from each? Maybe not consciously, but somewhere in the fabric of our being, we carry those experiences, shaping the way we choose to live.

    If we could see all the beads on the string of life—every role we’ve ever played, every lesson we’ve ever learned—would we finally understand why we are here? Would it make us better? Or is the forgetting just as essential as the remembering?

    It makes me wonder, are we all just actors in the grand play of existence, striving for our final standing ovation?

  • How Does It Feel Falling In Love With Someone

    (A millennial’s version)

    The age-old question. Maybe when you are a teenager. Maybe when you’ve been hurt so many times that your heart has stopped feeling. Maybe when you’ve been with someone for so long that love has faded into mere habit. Whatever the reason, this question haunts millions, and always will.

    Understanding love, the yearning for it, is one of life’s greatest dilemmas. At times, it feels impossible to differentiate between a crush, infatuation, or true love. But for now, let’s talk about love-the kind that makes you want to be with someone, in any and every way.

    We may try to separate admiration, platonic love, or protective affection, but the most perplexing kind is amorous love, the deep, undeniable desire to be with someone both physically and emotionally.

    The first sign? A definite interest in their life. A clear, positive interest means attraction, but sometimes, it manifests as irritation or even repulsion-why, no one really knows. If someone is on the receiving end of such behavior, I would never suggest mistaking a bully for a secret admirer. But the truth is, some people struggle to express warmth at first, or they themselves are confused by their emotions, making things even more confusing.

    Yet, if their presence sparks a rush of energy, a quickened heartbeat, a clouded mind, or burning ears, if you suddenly become hyper-aware of your own face when they’re around, chances are, you’re drawn to them.

    If you can’t help but be interested in their personal life, if hearing their name makes you feel lightheaded, if your hands tremble when touching something they’ve touched, if you’ve memorized their routine and favorite songs, if you secretly take candid pictures of them, if you know the exact shape of their eyes and nose by heart, and if just standing next to them sends electric waves through you,then you are truly, deeply infatuated.

    If they sit behind you, you dare not turn around for fear they might see the madness in your eyes. Writing their name becomes a pastime. You imagine them in every love song, every movie, every poem. You’ve stood outside their house just for a glimpse. You’ve lingered in places they frequent, hoping for a chance encounter.

    Looking into their eyes feels dangerous because they’d instantly know how much space they occupy in your thoughts. So instead, you hide within a crowd, just to watch them from a safe distance.

    If you’re already friends with them, you tread carefully. You hesitate to show too much care, yet somehow, you’re always the first to rush to their aid. Jealousy flares when they pay attention to someone else. You twist time and schedules just to be near them, ensuring they never glimpse your struggles. Your day starts with them and never truly ends, sleep merely interrupts the thoughts of them.

    Then comes the stage where your feelings refuse to be contained. It feels like your heart will burst if you don’t tell them. So you drop hints, sometimes subtle, sometimes glaring. You find yourself playing attention games, getting mad over the smallest things, hiding away just to be found by them.

    You stop speaking to them, not because you want to, but because every word feels like it could betray your secret. And so, the push and pull begins, a silent battle between revealing your heart and guarding it, unsure whether to risk everything or hold onto your fragile, unspoken world.

    Whatever the ending, every love story is different, in terms of outcome and the length. Love taps you on your shoulder when you least expect it, nudges you to take the first step and when you are in the middle of your journey, brings you a choice, if you want to pursue further or stop right there.

    Whatever the choice, it is not easy to make. Hell, even after choosing, there could still be regret. Because love stories are messy, at least the real ones are.

    Lucky are those whose love is recognized and returned. My heart aches for those whose love remains unrequited. Perhaps that is the paradox of love-it demands to be felt, yet it often defies logic.

    We spend our days longing, analyzing every interaction, deciphering unspoken words. But love has its own will, moving in ways we cannot predict or control.

    Love, in its unpredictability, often takes unexpected routes. It can be fleeting, it can be patient, and sometimes, it circles back when you least expect it. Sometimes, love comes back when you’re no longer around-days, weeks, years, even decades later. But no matter the outcome, experiencing love in its rawest, most unfiltered form is a blessing.

    Yes, love can be painful. It can end in heartbreak. But years from now, when you look back, you’ll remember not just the ache but the depth of your yearning. The intensity of your emotions. The sheer capacity of your heart to feel.

    Because to have truly lived is to have felt-immensely and intensely.

  • Life Attention पर चलती है—क्या आप सही जगह Attention दे रहे हैं?

    ज़िन्दगी attention पर चलती है। Parenting के बारे में जो पहली चीज़ आप सीखते हैं, वो है attention। जन्म के पहले ही पल से, एक बच्चा attention की चाहत रखता है। यह एक evolutionary ज़रूरत है कि कोई भी नवजात attention मांगे क्योंकि यह उसके survival के लिए आवश्यक है। एक मानव शिशु 100% अपने माता-पिता या caretakers पर निर्भर होता है। इस कारण, माता-पिता को लगातार अपने बच्चे की ज़रूरतों और असुविधाओं को समझने के लिए सतर्क रहना पड़ता है। लेकिन क्या यह बुनियादी attention की ज़रूरत उम्र बढ़ने के साथ समाप्त हो जाती है?

    इसे जो भी नाम दें, लेकिन चाहे हमारे पास कितना भी पैसा या technology क्यों न हो, community और मानवीय सहयोग हमारे happiness के लिए बेहद ज़रूरी हैं। इंसान machines के साथ जीवित रह सकता है, लेकिन अगर उसे वास्तव में thrive करना है—एक सार्थक जीवन बनाना है—तो उसे जुड़ाव की आवश्यकता होगी। और फिर यह बहस भी उठती है कि क्या केवल जीवित रहना ही पर्याप्त है, या जीने के लिए कुछ और भी मायने रखता है?

    जैसे-जैसे हम बड़े होते हैं, attention की आवश्यकता बदलती रहती है। इसके रूप बदल सकते हैं, लेकिन देखे और सुने जाने की मूलभूत ज़रूरत हमेशा बनी रहती है। फिर भी, एक community के रूप में हम अक्सर इस महत्वपूर्ण पहलू की अनदेखी कर देते हैं—चाहे वो attention देना हो या प्राप्त करना।

    Self-reliance और independence को तीन बार सलाम, लेकिन किस हद तक? इतनी कि हम खुद को दूसरों से अलग-थलग कर लें, यह सोचकर कि हमें community की ज़रूरत ही नहीं? या फिर इतनी कि हम समाज से कट जाएँ और फिर से जुड़ने में असमर्थ महसूस करें?

    ज़िन्दगी, बहुत हद तक, वहीं होती है जहाँ attention होती है। किसी व्यक्ति की well-being, किसी business की सफलता, या किसी community की मजबूती इस बात पर निर्भर करती है कि कहाँ और कैसे उनकी समस्याओं पर ध्यान दिया जा रहा है। लेकिन इससे गहरे सवाल उठते हैं: हम व्यक्तिगत और सामूहिक रूप से अपनी attention कहाँ केंद्रित कर रहे हैं? क्या हम सच में ज़रूरी चीज़ों को प्राथमिकता दे रहे हैं, या फिर महत्वपूर्ण आवश्यकताओं को अनदेखा कर रहे हैं और तुच्छ चीज़ों पर ध्यान दे रहे हैं?

    Attention देना एक गहरी और प्रभावशाली क्रिया है। यह presence, empathy, और action की मांग करता है। एक community के रूप में, हमें यह समझना होगा कि भार साझा करना कितना महत्वपूर्ण है। अगर कोई व्यक्ति अकेले अपने संघर्षों से जूझ रहा है, तो जो सक्षम हैं वे उसकी मदद कर सकते हैं। यह सामूहिक attention लोगों की ज़िन्दगी बदल सकती है, रिश्तों को मजबूत बना सकती है और belongingness की भावना को बढ़ावा दे सकती है। लेकिन पहला कदम यह स्वीकार करना है कि attention देना कितना जरूरी है—खुद को, दूसरों को, और अपने आस-पास की दुनिया को।

  • Self-Care Is Not Selfish

    History has not been kind to those who cannot advocate for themselves.

    Life and health, too, unfortunately, are unkind to those who devote themselves to others without attending to their own needs.

    Caretakers, for instance, often neglect their health because they lack the mental bandwidth or willpower to prioritize themselves.

    While they might know exactly how to care for others, planning meals, appointments, and exercises for their loved ones, they often fail to apply that same care to themselves.

    Self-care is often misunderstood. For many, it feels selfish or indulgent, especially in a society that glorifies sacrifice and selflessness.

    However, the truth is that self-care is one of the most selfless things you can do. Why? Because only when you care for yourself can you truly take care of others.

    Who is a caretaker? A caretaker is not just someone looking after an ailing or struggling person physically or mentally; it is anyone who pours themselves out to meet someone else’s needs.

    This includes a parent caring for a child, a working professional supporting their family, or a person managing both their job and an aging pet. The examples are endless.

    Being a caretaker is one of the most sacrificial roles a person can take on, but it is also one of the most self-sabotaging. The body and brain work in mysterious ways.

    When you are constantly focused on others, your own needs often fade into the background.

    Basic necessities required for a healthy mind and body, like exercise, nutritious food, and good sleep habits are ignored. Over time, this neglect takes a serious toll on physical and mental health, leading to chronic illnesses, particularly lifestyle disorders like hypertension, obesity, diabetes, and mental health struggles.

    Research has even linked prolonged stress due to neglected self-care with an increased risk of serious conditions like cancer.

    It takes immense grit, intention, and discipline to practice self-care, perhaps even more than it takes to care for someone else.

    Yet, without it, you risk burning out, becoming irritable, or even resenting the very people you are trying to help.

    You become the person you least pay attention to, and this neglect has consequences.

    If you are a parent, this may affect your parenting style. As a health caretaker, it impacts the healing environment of the home where you reside with the patient.

    This raises the question: is it wrong to prioritize yourself? Absolutely not.

    In fact, it is essential. Self-care is the foundation of effective caregiving and healthy relationships. It’s not about ignoring others’ needs but ensuring that you are strong enough to meet them.

    After all, you can’t pour from an empty cup.

    Unfortunately, societal attitudes make this even more difficult. We often glorify self-sacrifice to the point where those who prioritize their well-being are seen as selfish.

    But for those who are self-reliant or caring for others, self-care is a lifeline. It’s about maintaining the physical, emotional, and mental capacity to live meaningfully and support others effectively.

    At the same time, seeking help should be normalized and celebrated. Many people, including caretakers, struggle in silence because they feel they must manage everything alone.

    Yet, asking for support is not a sign of weakness but of courage, it shows trust in one’s community.

    This is why we must foster a culture where offering help is instinctive, even when it is not explicitly asked for. A simple offer of assistance can go a long way in reminding caretakers that they are not alone, that their struggles are seen and acknowledged.

    However, instead of encouraging practical support, society tends to glorify those who carry the burden alone to the brink of burnout. They are labeled as superheroes, praised for their endurance rather than helped in meaningful ways.

    For example, mothers juggling work and childcare without assistance are often called “wonder women” rather than being offered support. Instead of recognizing their struggle as a lesson in the need for communal care, we turn it into an inspiration for others to endure similar hardships.

    We celebrate perseverance, yet we fail to teach the importance of seeking or providing help.

    Ironically, while we admire success and ambition, we rarely consider empathy a skill worth cultivating. Internships and training programs focus on financial or professional growth, but who teaches us to support those silently struggling?

    The burden of caregiving often falls to those who grew up in difficult circumstances, not because they were taught how to handle it but because they had no choice.

    The lesson here is clear: to provide meaningful support, we must first be capable ourselves. Prioritizing self-care is not selfish; it is the most compassionate thing we can do for those who depend on us.

    We must foster an environment where taking care of our minds and bodies is guilt-free, while also ensuring that we uplift those who cannot do so themselves.

    Ultimately, self-care is about balance. It’s about recognizing that your well-being matters just as much as anyone else’s.

    It’s about creating a world where everyone, caretakers and those they care for, can thrive.

    And it starts with a simple but profound realization: you cannot help others unless you help yourself first.