Categories
Eternal Love: A Mother's Legacy

Love in the Physical Realm

I had grown up seeing my parents’ critical illnesses. Dad had cerebral attacks twice, two years in a row, while I was in school, and later, during my CA Inter exams, he met with an accident. My mom had multiple health issues—her uterus was removed when I was in college, and she faced critical pre- and post-menopausal issues. She was seriously ill to the extent that she was on a ventilator for a couple of weeks before I got my job. Later, she was diagnosed with COPD and was admitted again due to another acute exacerbation of COPD.

Childhood, for me, was learning survival before learning life.

I worked with a multinational as a Chartered accountant that was highly demanding. I belonged to a generation that believed in hard work, respecting seniors, and staying silent even when something felt incorrect. On the few occasions when I did try to take a stand for myself, I saw the true nature of management.

In November 2015, almost seven years before her departure, my mother was diagnosed with COPD and became critically ill. One hospital even advised us to take her home, saying there were no chances of survival. However, we were not ready to give up on her and decided to try another hospital.

Hope became our only treatment when medicine gave up.

Thankfully, after more than a month of treatment, she was discharged. At that time, the doctor mentioned that her survival chances were minimal—perhaps a couple of years at most.

Due to her condition, my mother had to use a BiPAP machine—a mask covering the nose and mouth, connected to an oxygen supply, often referred to as a portable ventilator. When she was discharged, she had to use it 24 hours a day.

During the same period, my father also fell critically ill and was on bed rest. Both my support systems, my elder sisters, could not be around due to medical emergencies in their in-laws’ families. It was also my promotion year, and I was the family’s breadwinner. I arranged the BiPAP machine and oxygen machine, though I had no clue about these machines in the first place.

Every night felt like a nightmare. She developed rashes around her nose and head because of the mask, but she had no choice. Thankfully, with proper care and precautions, after six months the doctor advised that she could limit its use to nighttime only, which was the biggest achievement of my life, and my promotion at work felt meaningless. It was her willpower to get better for me that made this possible.

Even in her suffering, she chose me every day.

I remember that whenever she removed the BiPAP, it felt as if she had been freed from a cage. A few years later, I was once advised to use a nebulizer for a cough for just a few minutes. It only covered the nose, yet it felt as if death would be better than that feeling. She, however, had to use it for 24 hours, and later years, many times during the day as well. There were moments when I had to insist on her putting it on, but each time it would break and shatter me from within.

Her love was not expressed in words, but in how she managed pain silently while ensuring I was never affected by it.

One blood test was done every 2–3 months in which the needle was injected in arteries to assess her blood oxygen and co2 level and it caused intense pain for months and led to crazy blood clots. I often wondered how she mentally prepared herself for that test every single time. Why did she carry so much willpower just for me? Yet, throughout her life, she remained grateful, believing that I was responsible for giving her another life. I did not want to marry someone who would not support me in taking care of my parents after marriage or expect me to live only in the vicinity of my in-laws’ home. I was only a reflection of her love and sacrifice, not my own doing.

Her struggle was invisible, but it defined my entire existence.

My mother never gave up, perhaps especially since I was still unmarried. She continued leading a difficult life with artificial breathing for seven years, worrying about me and wanting to see me settled. To her, I was still a little child.

For her, my life was not separate from hers—it was her reason to endure.

She developed ulcers on her tongue, and even the taste of salt caused a burning sensation in her mouth, affecting her ability to taste. Yet she still cared so much about every minute detail for me. I remember how her hands would tremble due to multiple health issues, including a vitamin deficiency. Yet, with those same trembling hands, she would cut a plate full of fruits for me every day—tasting each piece first, because she knew I wouldn’t eat it if it was sour. She wanted me to stay healthy. She even cooked meals for me out of affection despite her sickness.

She was more alert to my smallest discomfort than her own severe pain.

Irrespective of our situation, she gave me the life of a princess. She was my shelter and support system at all times; even when I didn’t speak, she heard me. When I saw no hope, she assured me that better days were ahead, and they would unfold gradually, though her health kept deteriorating.

Even in her weakest physical state, she was my strongest emotional support.

I feared losing her, and I remember that in the middle of the night, I would wake up to check on her, to see if she was still breathing. I can’t even count how many nights I slept, soaked in tears, filled with the pain of seeing my mother suffer.

Her love was silent, but it filled every corner of my life more than words ever could. I never had to hear her love—I lived inside it every day.

Categories
Healing and Spirituality

Not to possess, but to witness

The morning dawn and sunsets in the Himalayas…

The magical sight of a sleeping child…

A tender moment when a mother caresses her child in her lap…

The first rain touching the window after a harsh summer…

Birds flying in patterns across the sky…

Stars scattered in silence…

Waterfalls and waves striking the rocks…

Standing at the edge of the ocean, sinking into the beauty of its waves and stillness…

The Lord reveals Himself through these magical moments.

We do not possess any of these — nor do we possess ourselves.

We are here to observe, experience, and live love, not to own it.

We are the miraculous creation of the Lord Himself.

So why do we crave possession?

We come empty-handed, and we leave empty-handed.

We are here not to possess,

but to witness, to feel, and to love.

In these moments of beauty,

God quietly reveals Himself to mankind —

not to be owned, but to be experienced.

Categories
Personal Triumph Uncategorized

A Close Call, Handled Carefully

My father forgot his mobile phone in an auto.
When he realized it, he called the driver and requested him to return the phone and take the commuting cost. The driver refused.

My father then called me.

I spoke to the driver myself and politely asked the same thing. He again refused and instead asked me to come to a specific location. The name of the place itself felt suspicious. He also created pressure by saying that if I did not come within a short time, he would not return the phone.

I felt uneasy, but I did not have many choices.

Before going, I informed people. I tried calling a friend who lived nearby, but he was unavailable. I thought of calling my sisters. I considered a video call and then decided that visibility was important, so I chose to go live on Facebook for my safety.

When I reached the location, I saw a group of men who made me feel unsafe. They asked me to get down from the auto and come closer to talk to them. I refused. I did not engage in conversation or arguments. They spoke disrespectfully about my father, which I chose not to respond to.

I clearly asked them to deliver the mobile instead of engaging further. They then demanded cash. Wanting to end the situation quickly and safely, I paid the requested amount. I was asked by them to call the phone to confirm it, took the mobile, and left immediately.

I returned home safely.

Throughout the situation, I stayed practical, alert, and focused on my safety. Only after reaching home did my body begin to react. I felt shaken, uneasy, and disturbed. This was not fear in the moment, but the release of tension after the threat had passed.

This was the first time I encountered a situation where my safety truly felt at stake. It unsettled me, not because I handled it poorly, but because it was unfamiliar. Even without prior experience, I trusted my instincts, set boundaries, avoided escalation, and chose safety over ego, money, or argument.

The situation is over.
I am home.
I carry the learning, not the fear.

Categories
Healing and Spirituality

The Inner Threshold of Awareness

We all carry certain thresholds in different walks of life.

From time to time, these thresholds are challenged.

What we often label as fear is actually capacity waiting to be expanded.

Nature has its own quiet way of teaching us this. Often, we seek inspiration or guidance in the wrong spaces, places that are limited. And so, we keep moving in circles.

Like a volcanic eruption or a tsunami, when pressure builds in the inner world, it eventually bursts. That outburst is not destruction alone; it is accumulated inner suffering seeking transformation.

What feels like a breakdown is often the psyche saying; this boundary no longer fits who you are becoming.

Thresholds are the limitations we carry as humans, set consciously or subconsciously through past impressions. Otherwise, we are unlimited beings.

Awareness doesn’t remove thresholds overnight; it softens them first.

With awareness, we can broaden our thresholds, or even tap into the unlimited.

Every threshold crossed in awareness returns us closer to our original, unlimited state.

Categories
Eternal Love: A Mother's Legacy

Love that walks with me beyond this realm

In those deep cries, when not just every cell but my subtle body and soul mourn… and then, within seconds, a sudden surge of calmness fills me — as if you have placed your palm on my head or held me in a loving embrace. I know it’s you.

Your love has become my inner compass — guiding me even when I lose my way.

In those moments of restlessness, when I seek answer through various means, and the messages that come my way bring solace to my heart… it’s you.

I feel you in every shift of energy, every quiet reassurance.

In those moments when special days arrive — and knowing how I have lived them in the past with your presence around — you never miss an opportunity to surprise me without any expectation. And I am left awestruck.

You still find your way to me, just in quieter, softer ways.

In those times when I feel helpless or lose my temper, and guilt overwhelms me, and I seek divine guidance… the wise thoughts that arise within me are through you — lifting me back up.

You live in the silence between my breaths, in the wisdom that rises when I surrender.

Eternally yours, your daughter

Categories
Personal Triumph

The Unseen Side of Audit Quality

Walking the Tightrope of Audit Quality: Five Years, Countless Files, and a Journey Beyond Work

Stepping into my sixth year in audit quality review, I often pause to reflect on what this journey has truly meant. From the outside, it may seem like a too technical, sometimes checklist-driven role – but anyone who has lived this path knows it is much more — an emotional, psychological, and at times, deeply spiritual journey.

When the Reviewer Becomes the “Villain”

There are days when the way teams debate, defend, or push back makes us feel like commercial scavengers — walking behind the audit process and picking out the leftovers in the name of “quality.”

And that perception hurts.

Because our intention is never to tear down someone’s work.
Our purpose is to protect the integrity of the audit.
Yet the moment findings affect grading or profitability, the energy shifts — eyes turn cold, voices stiffen, and the resistance becomes visible.

Even when we understand the reaction, it drains something inside.

Every File, Every Team — A New Battlefield

One of the toughest parts of this role is that nothing repeats.

No two files, teams, or issues are ever the same.
Every audit has its own:

  • style
  • challenge
  • personality
  • energy

And every time, we walk in as the ones who “point out the flaws.”

It takes strength.
It takes patience.
It takes a thick skin.

The Spiritual Weight of the Work

The fatigue is often not physical — it is spiritual.
I sometimes find myself wondering:

  • “Is this a karmic cleansing?”
  • “Am I carrying the negative energy of those who benefit from my work?”
  • “Is the universe asking me to grow stronger?”

This role often feels like a karmic exchange.
We carry the weight of:

  • teams’ mistakes
  • partners’ fears
  • managers’ defensiveness
  • stakeholders’ pressure

And maybe each conflict, each pushback, is reshaping us — refining intuition, deepening resilience, sharpening clarity.

From Fast-Paced Systems to a Supportive Ecosystem

Having worked in large, structured audit institutions, I was accustomed to high expectations, strong processes, and intense review cycles. Stepping into my current role, I expected the same rhythm — and I found it, but with an added layer I hadn’t experienced before:

Genuine collaboration.

Here, discussions feel constructive.
Support is real.
And growth is encouraged.

The work, however, remains challenging — the pushback, the debates, the draining conversations.
Only now they don’t break me.
They upgrade me.

Each file takes me to the next version of myself.

A Journey of Growth — Beyond the Role

Audit quality is often mistaken for a watchdog function.
But for those inside it, it becomes:

  • a mirror
  • a test
  • a transformation
  • a purification
  • emotional training
  • a lesson in courage

Some days feel like karmic cleaning.
Some days feel like invisible battles for the firm.
Some days feel like standing alone.

But every single day, it makes me stronger, clearer, grounded, and more aligned with my truth.

Perhaps that is the real purpose of this role — far beyond grades or documentation.

Audit quality is not just about the files I review, but the person I’m becoming through each one.
If this journey is cleansing old karmas, so be it.
If it is shaping resilience for the future, I welcome it.

Because every challenge leaves me a little calmer, a little wiser, and a little more aligned with my purpose.

Categories
Personal Triumph

Healing beyond the mind: My AMP experience

I believe this wasn’t just a program — it was a retreat to reset the subconscious mind.
When we seek change in life, we must return to the root cause. Our mind works like an iceberg — most of its patterns lie hidden beneath the surface. The subconscious, conditioned since birth, silently governs much of what we experience. What manifests in the physical world first takes form at a subtle level within us.

Before attending AMP, I was already in a natural state of silence. My lifestyle is mostly inward — I spend much of my time in self-reflection. We often think we consciously choose change, but many shifts arise from the depths of the subconscious.

I don’t know to what extent AMP has touched those deeper layers within me, but something certainly moved. Two moments, in particular, shook me emotionally and spiritually.

The first was the sound of the flute played by Amit Bhaiya — yet it felt as if Krishna Himself was playing it, just for me. Every morning before i start my day at work i chant this affirmation  which is stuck on my laptop for few months now – “Like the sound of Your flute, let me dissolve into the rhythm of Your devotion.” I always used to wonder why He never played the flute for me — but now I realize, this experience was not random. I call it a spiritual blessing; others may call it mystical — both are true in their own way.

The second was healing. I began my journey carrying a deep physical sickness (fever and allergic cough), one I consciously hid from my family, knowing they wouldn’t have let me travel otherwise. Yet after the sessions, a quiet calm replaced the suffering — as if I left all my pain behind in AMP.

The third was one of the processes where we cleansed the emotions stored in the meridians. It made me feel completely empty — inside out — as though something heavy was leaving my system.


Throughout the session, Divine spoke — not through words alone, but through silence, energy, and inner clarity. The direction and answers to countless questions came so naturally that it felt as if the Lord Himself had come down in human form to converse with me.

Could anyone ask for more?
These are only a few reflections at the physical level. What unfolds ahead in my life will reveal the deeper, subtle shifts that have taken root within.
The morning after returning, I woke up with a quiet feeling — “Why am I here?” — yet I chose to simply sit in silence. That silence now feels effortless, peaceful, and full of grace.

As a Mudra Therapist, I’ve been sincerely practicing the Life Changing Mudra and Therapeutic Mudra for nearly two and a half years now — they have been a constant source of balance and transformation in my journey. AMP, in its own divine way, felt like a continuation and deepening of that same inner work — as if both were guided by the same Higher Hand.

My deepest gratitude to my Guru, Divine and Amit Bhaiya.
I hold profound respect in my heart for you bhaiya — words fall short of expressing it. I bow down to your lotus feet. Jai Gurudev!

If the Lord wills, He will write Part 2 of this journey. For now, I rest in gratitude — and I know I will return for another AMP in a few months, to continue this beautiful inner unfolding.

Categories
Personal Triumph

Watching You Fade, Loving You More Deeply

I realise you’ve been going through so much — more than I can ever imagine. I still remember how active you once were, walking with such energy that as a child, I felt I was running just to keep up.

You gave your heart and soul to your business, and when life took that away, it also took a piece of your spirit. You had dreams of studying further, of growing and learning more, but life demanded otherwise. Then it took your parents, your beloved brother, and finally, Mum.

There are days when I feel shattered… as if my world has crumbled into pieces.
When Mum left, a part of me went silent forever — and now, watching you fade in your own way, that silence deepens.

It’s like watching the pillars of my world slowly dissolve, one after another — the ones who gave me strength, belief, and unconditional love.

I try to remind myself that perhaps, beneath this pain, life is teaching me the art of surrender — to love without holding, to serve without expecting, to accept without breaking.

Yet still… my heart aches.
I miss her deeply, and I fear losing you too.

My heart aches when I see you walking slowly now, with pain and effort. When you raise your voice, I understand — it’s not anger, it’s the echo of a silent cry within.

I feel helpless at times, unsure how to ease your suffering. Watching our parents grow old and weary is one of the hardest truths to accept. I silently pray for your peace, happiness, good health, and joy.

I try, beyond my responsibilities, to be there for you — yet it often feels like I fail, like I’m not doing enough for my own dad.

Maybe this pain is a lesson — something life is trying to teach me, a truth I haven’t yet understood but deeply need to.
I just wish I could take away all your suffering.

I love you, Dad.  ❤

Categories
Personal Triumph

A Generation of Less, Yet More

I belong to a generation…

A generation that knew life without mobile phones or the internet.
Where homes often ran on DC current,
and days or nights without electricity were common.
We prayed instead of complaining,
and resilience was not taught—it was natural.

A generation where play was pure—
Hide and seek, lock and key, cricket, book cricket, carom, seven stones, ludo, corner-corner, kitchen set, skipping rope/jump rope, Antakshari, kho-kho, kabaddi, paper boats/paper planes, stock exchange, playing cards, and WWF cards and even cricket on the roads during strikes——innocence ruled our games, and mischief ended in laughter, not hurt.

A generation where I joined a local activity club, the only girl among the boys, yet ran, played, and laughed with unfiltered joy, my mother’s gentle nod opening the way.

A generation where spirituality was nurtured since childhood. Every Tuesday, we did devotional singing together. Everyone worked as a team to prepare, and everyone got a turn to sing. Even when we didn’t understand the meaning, we sang with full heart, from start to finish, just out of innocence.

A generation that didn’t demand everything we desired.
We understood our parents’ hearts,
and quietly let go of wishes
that could weigh heavy on them.
Gratitude wasn’t taught—it was lived.

A generation where silence spoke volumes.
A glance, a smile, a gesture
carried more than words ever could.

Simple. Innocent. Content.
We found beauty in less,
and meaning in the smallest moments.

And though the world has changed,
the roots of that generation live in me—
reminding me always
that less can still mean more.

Categories
Eternal Love: A Mother's Legacy Personal Triumph

Her Light

There were many moments in my life when my belief system was shaken, and hope seemed like a distant flicker. In those moments, I always turned to Mumma. I would sit with my thoughts, reflecting on how she imparted so much strength to me—how she could find even a single ray of hope in the darkest of times, where I saw none.

Her unwavering faith in my potential carried me further than I could have imagined. Without it, I might have landed nowhere. Today, as I look at where I stand, I realize that it is because of her blessings and belief that my mind has been trained, my spirit strengthened, and my path illuminated.

I am still on my journey—far from the heights the universe envisions for me—but with every step, I strive not just for myself, but to honor her. Every achievement, every milestone, every small victory is a way to lift her higher, to make her pride and blessings shine even brighter through me.

A mother is a guiding light, and we are never too old to share our challenges and struggles with her. She is a ray of hope in the darkest moments, where everything else seems impossible. I once wondered if sharing more might have spared me some pain—but now I trust it was part of a larger plan, God’s way of preparing me and carrying forward what her presence had already begun in me.

This is my journey, and it is hers too. Through her faith, I have learned that even in darkness, there is light. And that light carries the power to shape our destiny—one step at a time.