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Personal Triumph

The Circle of Love and Light

Teachers are not always the ones we meet in classrooms. They appear in many forms—sometimes as parents, mentors, friends, or even as life itself. Each of them shapes us in their unique way, leaving behind imprints that guide our journey. Today, I feel deeply grateful as I write about the teachers and guides who have made me who I am.

The Guiding Light of My Life

My mother was my very first teacher, and her lessons began even before I was born. From the time I was in her womb, she nurtured me not just physically but at a subtle, spiritual level. She was the one who taught me my alphabets, and I still remember the one and only time she ever slapped me—when I wrote the letter “C” incorrectly after doing it correctly before.

But she was more than just a mother. She was my friend, my sibling, my companion who played with me after school, as my timing with my elder sisters often differed. She instilled discipline in me from a young age and emphasized the importance of independence. At the same time, she pampered me with love, care, and little joys that made my childhood so special.

Her contribution to my life cannot be measured in words—her sacrifices, her strength, and even the pain she endured shaped me into who I am today.

For me, she was not just my mother; she was, and will always remain, my Guru, my Krishna. Before I bow to any divine form, I bow to her—for the values she inculcated in me continue to serve as my eternal guide.

My Dad and Sisters

Alongside my mother, my father and sisters have also been my teachers. Their love and pampering added warmth to my journey, making me feel cared for and supported at every step. Being the youngest in the family, I often received the privileges of their sacrifices—things I did not notice as a child. It is only after growing up that I truly realized how much they gave up so that I could have a better life.

My family has been my strength, silently shaping me with their love, care, and values. Whatever I am today is not just because of me, but because of them. We have always moved together as a team, and my roots, my security, and my courage come from the foundation they built for me.

Abha Miss – My Maths Teacher

Abha Miss was my mathematics teacher both at school and in tuition, but my bond with her extended far beyond academics. Her presence, support, and guidance have played a beautiful role in my journey. I will always remain grateful for the impact she had on my life.

Nisha Mam – My Spiritual Guide

After losing my mother, I crossed paths with Nisha Mam—a teacher who entered my life almost as if she had been sent by my mother herself. Her presence, her wisdom, and her way of guiding have been significant in my journey. She doesn’t provide ready-made answers; instead, she lights the path and allows me to walk it with awareness. Her presence itself is a guiding force that I often refer back to in moments of reflection.

Tony – My Mentor at Work

In my professional journey, I have been fortunate to have Tony, a senior mentor whose role has been pivotal in shaping me. He has always believed in my potential, yet never handed me solutions directly. Instead, he challenges me with direction, trusts me to put in the effort, and helps me discover my own way forward. His faith has instilled confidence in me, and his mentorship has been a true blessing

Nikhil – My Fitness Coach

And then there is Nikhil, my fitness coach, who taught me that fitness is more about mindset than just the body. On days when I dragged myself, he pushed me beyond limits, entertained even my smallest doubts, and supported me with patience. What inspires me most is his toughness and inner strength—it reflects in the way he trains and motivates. Through him, I have learned that resilience of the mind can truly transform the body, and that with the right mindset, I can do it.

The Silent Teachers – Critics and Heartbreaks

Not all teachers enter our lives with affection. Some come in the form of critics, disappointments, and heartbreaks. At the time, their presence may feel harsh, but in hindsight, they too were vital teachers. They pushed me out of my comfort zone, tested my resilience, and forced me to widen my boundaries.

The pain they caused became the fire that shaped my strength. Their criticism made me introspect, and their absence made me value presence. In their own way, they taught me lessons no book could ever offer: to rise after falling, to trust my own worth, and to keep growing even when it hurts.

A Bow of Gratitude

Each of these people—whether they brought me love, guidance, challenges, or even heartbreak—have been my teachers. Some entered through birth, some through circumstance, and some by sheer divine blessing. To all of them, I bow with gratitude. They remind me that life is a continuous journey of learning, and teachers are the guiding stars who help us shine.

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Healing and Spirituality Personal Triumph

Guided by Grace – My Artistic Ode to Love & Light

This painting emerged from a deep, meditative and spiritual experience —a gesture of wisdom and unity. It reflects the soul’s journey in this realm, moving from the gross to the subtle, from the material to the spiritual, returning to the realm where we truly belong.

It is a movement from darkness to love and light—the eternal reality as I have come to understand it. The planet in the painting may be seen as Earth, our present home, or perhaps Mars, my birth number, symbolizing a personal link to cosmic origins.

The direction of this journey is guided by my Guru, who leads me toward inner upliftment and truth. The path moves toward the sun—yet, in my vision, it stretches beyond, into the multiverse, the source from which the Milky Way itself was born, as echoed in the Big Bang.

While much of the emotion behind this work transcends words, it is my humble attempt to depict a soul’s flight toward its highest light.

In essence, this painting is my inner reflection cast into the outer world—a world of love and light, illuminated by the grace of my beloved Lord Krishna.

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Healing and Spirituality Krishna's Devotee!!! Personal Triumph

In the name of friendship – My search ends in Krishna

In childhood, I witnessed and encountered many situations I never spoke about—not with friends, not even with family. I carried them quietly, like invisible weights on my young shoulders.

There were moments when I heard people badmouthing my parents and siblings—saying things no child should ever have to process. And I stayed silent. Maybe because I didn’t know how to speak up. Maybe because I feared being misunderstood.

My father sacrificed his life at work, and my mother gave her all at home. Both were deeply devoted, intellectually inclined souls. Yet, the world still found reasons to disrespect them. And I, as a child, didn’t know how to handle that dissonance—between the love I felt and the judgment I saw.

There was also an age gap between me and my elder sisters. While they were growing into their own worlds, I often found myself alone. Not unloved—but lonely.

I didn’t have a friend I could truly call my own.

Back then, that “best friend” label meant everything. It was what every classmate flaunted. It was the norm, and not having that made me feel like I was missing something fundamental.

Looking back now, I realise the root of my loneliness wasn’t just about not having someone to talk to.

It was about not feeling understood.
It was about the emotional burdens I carried silently.
It was about being surrounded, yet unseen.

And most of all—it was about my yearning for true connection, a quiet hunger to be met with presence and compassion.

I gave my all wherever I went—and yes, I expected in return. Because I’m human, not a saint. And human hearts crave mutuality.

But that giving often came with pain.
I was broken, shattered, betrayed, used.
And slowly, life taught me something essential:

That I was seeking at the wrong place.

Along the way, I met different people—friends who felt like answers, soulmates, companions.
Some stayed for a while. Others came and left like seasons.

And they taught nothing is permanent in life.

But with time and reflection, something shifted.

I now understand: it was never about having someone to share everything with.
It was about Being—
Being accepted.
Being seen.
Being held—not in performance, but in presence.

And my seeking ends here.

For I now seek everything in Krishna—
The friend I always dreamt of.
The one who was always there when I felt lonely.
The one I failed to recognise.

That divine presence within me—the quiet wisdom guiding me through the chaos—was Him.
He was assisting me in silence, watching over my broken moments, holding space in my solitude.

I thought I lacked a best friend.
But truly—I’ve always had the best one anyone could ever ask for.

My eternal companion. My Krishna.

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Personal Triumph

A Personal Story of Grief Beyond Words

Mom was a COPD patient and she was not keeping well, but we never thought we would lose her. She usually felt a little deterioration in winters.

Suddenly, one day she fell due to sudden dizziness, and that marked the beginning of her suffering moving to another dimension. For 10 days, she was at home under family care.

Me and my elder sister were not willing to admit her to the hospital because, subconsciously, we knew that if she got admitted, her health would deteriorate more.

But once we noticed blood in her urine channel, and she complained of being unable to pass urine, we had no choice. We called her doctor under whose treatment she was undergoing, but he denied admitting her to his hospital.

Our family doctor, who would always come to visit Mom whenever she was admitted before, also denied visiting, saying he was now too old and no longer visited hospitals.

Something did not seem right.

These eyes witnessed her suffering and crying in pain. Her hands were swollen like balloons, including her palms. Water was oozing out from her hands, and her skin looked stretched and fragile.

Her hands were restrained because there was a risk of her pulling out the ventilator pipe, which could have led to immediate loss of life. Her legs were restrained due to blood circulation issues. Her body started developing sores, and my teary eyes could do nothing but feel helpless.

Amidst all this, she was worried about me—because I was single, and she always thought of me as a kid. Even when she was not fully conscious, she was concerned about hospital expenses.

In the previous hospital admissions of my mom and dad, my sisters were the ones dealing with the doctors. They were more of the face to it.

But this time, for the first time, it was completely me.

One night, I was called at midnight by the doctors. They said they needed to put a central line (cannula) in her throat because her hands were swollen, had clots, and they couldn’t locate a vein. This central line goes directly into a major vein near the heart. I was shaken.

Three days later, she suffered a heart attack. The doctors managed to revive her, but she was then put on a ventilator.

Her suffering didn’t end there.

There is a medical protocol that says a person cannot be on a ventilator for more than a week. After that, they usually do a tracheostomy, where a hole is made in the throat so the person can breathe through it. After this, they can’t speak anymore.

It was a new term for us. We consulted many doctors—we didn’t want to go for it, but eventually, we had no choice.

In the meantime, during all those 28 days in the hospital, the doctors seemed reluctant and distant about her case. It felt like they were not taking her condition seriously. The doctor had a clear belief that she wouldn’t survive, but he did not communicate this to us openly until much later.

Ironically, he was the one who knew her case history the best. He was considered one of the top doctors in town, and her treatment was happening in one of the best hospitals in the city.

But I didn’t want to give up. I had read about near-death experiences. I wanted to leave no stone unturned.

Finally, on 24th January, her health reached a point where even the bladder, rice tube was not functioning. Her normal urine passage was blocked, and urine had to be drained through a tube inserted in her lower abdomen.

I saw blood coming out of her mouth when she tried to speak, and tears rolled down her eyes. All I could do was stand there, helpless.

She was semi-conscious, but I know my messages reached her. She heard me—and she acknowledged them in her own way.

During this time, I was pressured by many people to sign the consent form—the one that says no further treatment should be given, or that we should ask the doctors to remove the ventilator because of the hospital expenses.

But what would I do with money if I don’t have Mom?

My entire motivation to be and do something in life was through her and for her.

The reason I am something today is because of her.
She played the role of both mother and father for us. After my father’s cerebral attack, she hid all the problems and challenges from him. She never let him see the struggles she was facing.

Her strength, her sacrifices, and her unconditional love are the foundation of whatever I have become.

I refused to sign the consent form. I wanted to wait till the very last moment—until I saw her organs starting to fail one by one. At that point, she was alive in body, but gone in spirit—only her breath was moving. She was living, but it was as if life had already left.

We lost her on the morning of 27th January (Friday) due to septic shock and a heart attack.

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Personal Triumph

FACING THE FEAR – A SILENT BATTLE

A couple of weeks ago, someone told me,
“Once you’ve lost one parent and dealt with it, you become prepared for the loss of the other. You stop fearing it.”

I was under shock—astonished and surprised. I mentally said, God bless you, ended the conversation, and hung up.

Consciously, I did not remember that thought, but it seems it stayed with me in my subconscious mind.

For the past one week, I noticed myself feeling an undercurrent of fear that I couldn’t quite name—until now.

It’s the fear of losing my father.

Maybe this fear developed during that conversation or perhaps it traces back to my childhood, when my father had a cerebral attack. I don’t know. But what I do know is this:

Losing a parent is not something you get “used to.” Even after one loss, the thought of losing the other can be just as overwhelming—if not more. When one parent is gone, the surviving parent often becomes a living reflection of both, carrying shared memories and silent comforts. That bond makes the idea of further loss even more delicate, not less. This is that relation where the last strings are attached—for both of them.

I’ve also come to realize that when people speak about grief, they often reveal their own coping mechanisms, not universal truths. The person who shared this thought with me is going through a broken relationship and battling their own depression. Maybe distancing themselves from emotional attachments feels safer to them right now. Sometimes people try to minimize future pain as a way to survive current pain.

But grief doesn’t follow a formula. Love cannot be systemized. Each loss reshapes us differently.

Grief is not something to overcome, but something we learn to carry. It doesn’t go away, but it shifts and changes form with time. The love remains—and maybe that’s what helps us keep going.

Maybe the real courage isn’t in preparing for loss—but in allowing ourselves to love fully, despite knowing its impermanence.

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Healing and Spirituality

The Fire Within – A Journey of Inner Transformation

My intention behind this painting was to portray the Sun — the ultimate source of light and love in the universe. Just like love, sunlight is warm and nourishing, making us feel held and alive from within.

But when I looked at images of the Sun from NASA and ISRO, I noticed something deeper — explosions of fire constantly erupting within it. That visual struck me.

The Sun burns itself to give light to others. It sacrifices itself so that life on Earth can exist. That selfless act became a symbol for me — of inner fire, of love, and of transformation.

From the perspective of the five elements, especially Agni (fire), this element represents transformation. And so, I chose to reflect that intense, almost desperate urge for inner transformation — which then radiates outward as the beauty we see in the world.

This painting is a reminder:

The fire within — though explosive, painful, and raw — is what gives rise to light, life, and outward beauty.
Our inner world, with all its chaos, becomes the very reason the outer world begins to shine.

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Healing and Spirituality

The Universe Within Us: From Darkness to Radiance

For the longest time, I held a vision — a desire to paint the silent, stunning dialogue between the soul and the cosmos. Finally, it found its voice on this canvas.

This artwork is more than colors or shapes.
It’s a whisper to the grieving heart. A call to those who feel lost, heavy, or too weary to take another step.
It’s a reminder that there’s beauty within you — as vast, radiant, and luminous as the universe.

As a Mudra Therapist, I often share that our body is a replica of the universe. What we hold inside — be it pain, peace, or potential — reflects outward. When we begin to heal, reflect, and realign within, our external reality transforms in response.

This painting is a celebration of that sacred alignment.

I could picture the skies in a place near the Himalayan range. Sometimes, thick clouds and rain hide the beauty. But we wait. Because we know — once the rain stops and the skies clear, magic happens.

We finally get that breathtaking glimpse we came for — the snow-capped peaks, the sparkling stars, the vast, open sky. That one clear moment makes all the waiting worth it.

Life is the same.
The grief. The chaos. The numbness. These are temporary clouds. If we sit with them, breathe through them, and gently honor their presence, our inner sky begins to clear too.

Healing is not a destination — it’s a homecoming to your own light.

So, if you’re feeling broken right now, pause. Breathe. Look within.
Like in the painting — the airplane doesn’t run from the dark; it moves toward the light. And that’s our path too.

Face your storms. Fly through them.
Because beyond the darkness… a new sun is always waiting to rise.

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Healing and Spirituality

Spiritual Growth: Not Just Upward, But Inward and Outward Too

Spirituality often begins not in peace, but in pain.

It’s in those moments of discomfort and challenge that something deeper awakens within you.

The resilience and perseverance to simply be—despite the discomfort—is the true starting point.

And a deeper shift begins when you start seeing opportunity within the pain, or the constraints life places on you.

“Spirituality deepens when wisdom emerges from resilience.” – Priyanka Murarka

You begin by gaining wisdom and slowly start using it in your day-to-day life.

The next step is learning to understand those who may not be where you are yet in their journey.

And then comes a deeper challenge—translating your wisdom into a language they can relate to.

Because while you and they look at life through different lenses, true connection lies in helping them see the bigger picture through their own perspective.

“Spiritual growth is not just upward, but inward—and then a reflection of that inward journey outward.” – Priyanka Murarka

This is where I find myself right now—learning to meet others where they are.

That, I feel, is the real essence of growth.

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Healing and Spirituality Personal Triumph

Smile: Your secret Superpower

Smile is Underrated 😊
– By Priyanka Murarka

Have you ever noticed how easily we forget to smile, especially when life throws a curveball?

We often look for complex solutions to manage our emotions.
But what if I told you that one of the simplest, most magical tools is right under your nose—quite literally?

Next time you’re upset—no matter what the reason or even in the worst-case scenario—try this simple practice:

  • Close your eyes
  • Consciously smile
  • Consciously observe the impact of that smile on your face, your mood, and your physical body

You’ll be amazed.
Your jaw relaxes, your breathing deepens, and a quiet warmth spreads across your being.
A smile softens the sharp edges of pain.
It’s like an inner sunshine that peeks through even on the cloudiest days.

I do this often.
It doesn’t mean I’m ignoring my emotions—
It means I’m choosing to meet them gently, with grace.

Smile is magical ✨
Smile is therapy 💆‍♀️
Smile is enlightening 🌟
Smile is love and light 💖✨

And the best part?
It’s free, effortless, and always available.

So today, give yourself that gift.
Smile—not for the world, but for you.

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Personal Triumph

Breaking Limits: One Rep at a Time

Lesson : Stop cribbing! It only adds to the pain and keeps you from seeing what you’re truly capable of. Gather yourself and keep pushing.


This morning, my coach asked me to do bicep curls with 5 kg weights. I’d only used 2 kg before, so I double-checked — “Did you say 5 kg😭?”

He confirmed, and I began… cribbing through every rep. My arms screamed, and it felt like my elbows would snap.


After a few reps, he snapped at me: “Either switch back to 2 kg or do 5 kg without a single crib.” That hit me hard. I had a choice—to give up or try. I chose the second.


I connected with my upper arm, fore arm and then whole body and told myself, “We do this together as a team work irrespective of outcome”.
Somehow, I pushed through. Finished 3 sets of 10 reps, with enormous pain but proud.


And I noticed something:
When I stopped cribbing and focused with a positive mindset, the reps actually felt a bit better. The pain was still there—but more bearable.


Outcome: I didn’t just lift 5 kg—I lifted my mindset.


Deeply grateful to my coach — not just for pushing me physically, but for rewiring my inner dialogue. 🙏

For those who say they’ve never met Hitler (kharus old-school type) – clearly, you’ve never trained with mine 😅


And honestly, every week of workout feels like a milestone. It’s not just my body moving — it’s my mind being trained. This journey has made me realize that the body is just the medium… it’s all mind work. 🧠