Tag: #EmotionalHealing

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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.  ❤

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Eternal Love: A Mother's Legacy

A Daughter’s Farewell – Heart, Love, Soul, and Devotion

A few months before her departure, during a conversation about death, she had told me something profound. She said that if one writes Ram with sandalwood 108 times on the body after death, the soul attains moksha and reaches Baikunth Lok. She shared that people in olden times believed and practiced this, but in today’s world, no one has the time or devotion to do it anymore. Her words etched themselves into my heart without me knowing why. I did not utter anything to her then but I made up my mind quite do that when time comes. But I had no hint that it would come so soon then.

Despite her critical illness, I prayed with every breath, but destiny had already written a different script. When I saw her body in the ICU, I couldn’t believe she was no longer there. For the first time in my life, I stood so close to death. It felt as if the ground beneath me collapsed, and my whole universe crumpled into pieces. In that moment, it felt as though the Lord had taken away my very reason for living in this realm. Also, it didn’t feel like a body—it felt like the remnant of a soul, her divinity—like a calm, an aura, or a sense of stillness.

I remembered her words and thought of arranging sandalwood to write Ram 108 times on her body. But my emotions, my love, and my devotion could not wait for hours. Instead of waiting for hours for her body to be discharged by the hospital, I longed to write with the depth of my soul—the purity of love I held for her—using the very fingers she once held, with the same love with which she had nurtured me. So, with trembling hands, I wrote Ram 108 times on her body—each stroke filled with love, prayers, and devotion, even as my heart shattered into pieces. Every ‘Ram’ was a prayer, every stroke a tear, every letter a surrender.

I stood firm, determined to perform all her rituals—even those traditionally reserved for a son in Hindu tradition—and my family, too, agreed, recognizing the depth of my love for her. In their acceptance, I felt the world acknowledging my bond and devotion towards her.

Later in the afternoon, while we were waiting for the insurance formalities to be cleared so we could take her body for the rituals, I got my cycle. I never believed in this tradition—in fact, I have always seen the cycle as purely biological. But for my Mumma’s upliftment and for her soul to rest in peace, I did not want to become an obstacle from the perspective of tradition.

Her body was fragile, covered with wounds and water was oozing out from her skin. Even in that fragile, wounded body, I saw the strength with which she had lived and loved. The hospital authorities did bandage most her body before releasing. I had witnessed her suffering so closely, but most people must have lost their senses—it was unbearable to see her in such a terrible condition.

As per Hindu tradition, I was not allowed to perform the ceremony, and in that moment, I realized something deeper: the Lord and my Mumma had already accepted my pure devotion and love.

In that moment, I knew, irrespective of my cycle, it was impossible to write with sandalwood on her body and with certainty: what I had done earlier—writing Ram 108 times with my own fingers, with love and prayer was accepted and truest of rituals already performed through these hands.

In that truth, I found peace—knowing the Lord and my Mumma had already accepted my devotion, that her soul had reached where it was meant to be, and that our bond would remain unbroken for eternity.

With every breath, I know—I’m on my way to the eternal Home, where Mumma waits, and love lives forever.

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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

A Journey Back to Her Embrace

Some journeys change something deep inside you—without warning, without effort. My recent trip to Sikkim was one such journey.

As I was approaching my destination, something unexpected caught my attention. On the way, I saw a monkey gently cradling its baby, much like how a kangaroo holds its little one in her pouch. That tender moment struck me deeply—it reminded me of my mother’s love. The kind of love that stays with you, even in silence. That one scene held more warmth and emotion than words can express.

Soon after, just as I was about to reach the hotel, I looked up—and there it was: a sunset over the Himalayan mountains. Golden hues spilling over snow-kissed peaks, stillness all around, and in that moment… something within me shifted. My heart felt full. Tears began to roll down my cheeks without any explanation. It was overwhelming, humbling, and deeply moving. I whispered to myself, this is where I belong. I would give up everything for this stillness—for this feeling of home.

A Moment Beyond Words

Honestly, what I’ve written here might be just 0.1% of what I truly felt. No words could fully contain what I experienced. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be able to fully express it—and I’ve made peace with that. Because I know I’m blessed to have lived it.

And maybe… some things are meant to be felt, not described.

The Real Journey

This wasn’t a trip I planned for leisure—it was a break I desperately needed. For the longest time, I had been yearning to escape.
From my home.
From people.
From responsibilities.
From everything.

It felt like I had been carrying too much for too long—and I just wanted to run.

But the haunting didn’t stop with the change of place. The thoughts, the people, the pain… they followed me. And then, somewhere between those winding roads and quiet moments, I realized: I wasn’t running from them—I was running from myself.

That realization changed everything.

The Himalayas didn’t just offer peace; they mirrored my chaos. And in their vast silence, I began to hear myself again. That moment of deep emotional release, standing before the mountains, was more than just awe—it was cleansing. A beginning. A homecoming.

It felt like Mother Nature held me the way my mother once did—with quiet strength and unconditional love.

The stillness around me somehow reached the noise inside me. And then, emotion welled up in my eyes—quiet, unstoppable, and deep.

In that moment, I remembered something I hadn’t felt for long.

Whenever life overwhelmed me, I would quietly place my head in my mother’s lap.
No words were spoken. Just her hand gently stroking my hair.
Tears would flow… and in that silence, I always felt—

This is the safest, purest, and most peaceful place in the Universe — I felt my higher self. I felt grounded, I felt whole. I felt a deep sense of belonging, warmth, and divine love.

That day in the Himalayas… it felt just like that.
Like I was once again resting in her lap.
It wasn’t just the mountains. It was Mother Nature. It was my mother.
It was something beyond words—like the universe held me in the very same way she once did.

And for the first time in a long time…
I wasn’t alone.

Categories
Personal Triumph

Inner ripples of outer perception

Another realization that’s been quietly unfolding within me for the past few months…

Every time I try to see or feel something far away — whether it’s a distant vision, a future possibility, or even just imagining something right in front of me — I notice something interesting.

I don’t actually feel it “outside” of me.
I feel it within me.

Even when my mind reaches outward, my experience pulls me inward.

And that’s when it struck me — whether we think or feel something beautiful or something painful,
it impacts us internally.

Our inner world is where all experiences, even the “external” ones, are processed, lived, and held.

So, in a way…
The outer is just a mirror.
The real ripple is always within.

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Mudra Therapy

Unlock the Power of Mudra Therapy for Healing and Well-Being

In today’s fast-paced world, where technological advancements often seem to dominate our lives, we find ourselves caught in a constant rat race. With the touch of a button, we can accomplish tasks in an instant, but the consequence is that many of us have little time left for ourselves, let alone our own well-being. The constant pressure to keep up, to perform, and to achieve often takes a toll on our physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual health. We may feel disconnected, overwhelmed, or exhausted.

Yet, amidst this chaos, there is an ancient practice that holds the key to healing and balance: Mudra Therapy.

Mudras, the symbolic hand gestures or formations made with the fingers, are more than just simple movements. They are profound tools for channeling energy, unlocking inner peace, and connecting our mind, body, and soul. The beauty of Mudras lies in their simplicity and accessibility — they require no special equipment, no advanced knowledge, and can be practiced anywhere, anytime. With the soft touch of our fingertips and mindful breathing, we can tap into the incredible healing power that resides within us.

What is Mudra Therapy?

Mudra Therapy is based on the principle that our body is a microcosm, a replica of the universe itself. The ancient philosophy of Pindi Te Bhramandi teaches us that both our body and the cosmos are made up of five basic elements: earth, water, fire, air, and ether. Just as the universe is in perfect balance when these elements are in harmony, so too is our well-being when these elements within us are in equilibrium.

By forming specific hand gestures, we activate particular energy pathways in the body, aligning our inner energies and restoring balance. Mudras are believed to influence our physical health, emotional states, mental clarity, and spiritual growth. Each gesture has a unique purpose, whether it’s to calm the mind, heal the body, or strengthen our connection to the universe.

The Benefits of Mudra Therapy

Mudra Therapy offers numerous benefits, working on every aspect of our being:

  • Physical Healing: Mudras can help alleviate physical discomfort, boost the immune system, and promote overall health by restoring balance to the body’s energy flow.
  • Emotional Balance: Certain Mudras can help reduce stress, anxiety, and negative emotions, promoting inner calm and emotional well-being.
  • Mental Clarity: Mudras enhance concentration, memory, and mental clarity, aiding in better decision-making and focus.
  • Social Harmony: By practicing Mudras, we cultivate inner peace and compassion, which can positively impact our relationships with others.
  • Spiritual Growth: Mudras facilitate a deeper connection with ourselves, our higher consciousness, and the universe, allowing for spiritual awakening and growth.
A Path to Healing in the Modern World

In our fast-paced, technology-driven world, it can be easy to forget that true well-being comes from within. Yet, in just a few minutes a day, Mudra Therapy offers a powerful antidote to the stress and distractions of daily life. These simple practices provide us with a moment of stillness, allowing us to reconnect with ourselves, restore balance, and experience the profound healing that we all deserve.

Stay tuned for the next post, where I’ll introduce some practical Mudras you can begin practicing today and explain how you can incorporate them into your daily routine. Together, we can reclaim our well-being and make a difference in our lives and in the world around us.

Remember: The power to heal is always within you — sometimes, all it takes is the touch of your fingertips and a mindful breath.

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Eternal Love: A Mother's Legacy

Whispers of the Divine: A Mother’s Love Across Realms

They say you embarked on a new journey to a heavenly abode, but to me, you have always transcended human form, even while you walked this earth. Your extraordinary ability to read my mind and see into my heart was a rare gift. Despite the generational divide, you understood me in ways that no one else ever could. It felt as though you lived in my soul, grasping every nuance and detail far beyond what those my age could ever comprehend.

Your prayers and boundless love—both maternal and divine—made the impossible possible. They shaped my very belief system, instilling in me a faith that continues to guide me today. When life overwhelmed me, simply placing my head beneath your veil wiped away my pain, allowing me to find solace in your presence. You were my refuge.

Like the nurturing arms of Mother Nature, you allowed me to thrive under your care. Even when I faltered or neglected my responsibilities, much like how we often take our planet for granted, you forgave me without hesitation. You continued to give, as only a mother could. I slept in your protection and awakened each day wrapped in the warmth of your love. Not a single moment passes without feeling your protective shield around me—in every breath I take and every stirring of my heart. The sheer ehsaas of you lingers in the air, reminding me of the goddess you always were.

Worshipping Ma Durga brings me back to you—the way your love, care, and blessings empowered me to face my inner demons. It was your nurturing spirit that helped me conquer my shortcomings, allowing me to focus on the strength you always recognized in me.

When I invoke Ma Laxmi, I remember the abundance you blessed me with—not just in material wealth, but in spiritual prosperity and self-knowledge, guiding me toward liberation. You opened my eyes to the riches within, treasures I carry with me every day.

And then there’s Ma Saraswati—she brings back the peace I felt in your presence, the serenity found in the safety of your veil. You awakened a power in me that I didn’t know I possessed, the limitless potential that fuels my journey.

Ma Saraswati also reminds me of that bittersweet moment when the world outside bid farewell to her idol while I was bidding farewell to you, as you left this realm during your cremation ceremony.

It wasn’t mere coincidence; life has no random acts. There was a deeper synchronicity at play, as if the universe mirrored my grief, reminding me that just like the goddess you were, you will always be a part of me.

“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched—they must be felt with the heart.” – Helen Keller

You are my eternal guide, my divine mother, and in every breath, I carry your essence with me, forever intertwined.

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Eternal Love: A Mother's Legacy

Adversity to Triumph : Mother’s Enduring Love

As I reflect on my life and the profound impact my mother had on it, I am overwhelmed by a mix of grief, gratitude, and awe. Today, I want to share a story that’s etched deeply in my heart—one that speaks of resilience, sacrifice, and an enduring bond that defied all odds.

On my very first birthday, my mother was in the hospital undergoing a crucial operation. Despite her own suffering and the uncertain future, she ensured that I wore a new dress for my special day. It wasn’t just a dress—it was a symbol of her undying love and her refusal to let her own trials overshadow my joy. Given the circumstances, she understood there might be no one else to celebrate my birthday at home. It was a gesture of hope and defiance against the adversity that surrounded us.

From the moment I came into this world, my mother’s life was marked by hardships. My grandmother had initially rejected me because I was not the grandson she had hoped for. Such rejection could have been a blow to anyone’s spirit, but my mother faced it with an unbreakable resolve.

Soon after my birth, I fell gravely ill. Doctors gave up hope, stating that my survival was unlikely. Yet, my mother’s faith never wavered. She clung to hope with a tenacity that seemed almost supernatural. She prayed fervently, undertook austerities, and observed fasts, never giving up on me, even when the medical community had written me off.

The Lord had a plan, and that plan was to give us years together that we would come to cherish. I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have been raised by the strongest woman in the universe—a woman who, despite the rejections and adversities, embraced me with a mother’s love and dedicated her life to my well-being. She sacrificed her comfort, her health, and her own dreams to provide me with education, nourishment, and the values that shaped me.

For 38 years, my mother endured unimaginable suffering and torment. It was only in July 2010 that our lives began to shift dramatically. I remember walking out of our home with the thrilling news of securing a job at PwC, a job that promised a salary that was merely a dream. Her astonishment and joy were palpable. “Really?” she asked, her voice filled with disbelief and pride. That evening marked the beginning of a new chapter for us, a period of gradual improvement and transformation in our lives.

Yet, as I now grapple with the pain of her loss, the last 38 days of her life resonate with an almost unbearable intensity. Her final days were marked by immense suffering. On a ventilator, with her legs and hands restrained, her body was swelling and oozing—each detail of her condition a vivid reminder of her torment. Despite her excruciating suffering, she was more concerned about the expenses of her treatment than her own pain. Her selflessness in those moments was a profound lesson in compassion.

In reflecting on her life, I am struck by a series of poignant coincidences. I was born on a Friday, and she departed on a Friday. I came into this world on the 27th, and she left us on the 27th. These details, though small, seem to underscore the deep connection we shared.

In the end, I am left with a heart full of gratitude and sorrow, and a profound respect for the woman who, despite her own suffering, gave me everything.

Through everything, my mother taught me an invaluable lesson: Never lose hope. As long as there is life, there is hope. Her life was a testament to enduring strength and selfless love. The pain of losing her is immense, and the grief is profound, but the lessons she imparted continue to guide me. Her life was one of relentless courage, and her legacy is a beacon of hope that will forever light my path.