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Personal Triumph

Anandam 2.0 – A Miss Beyond Words

Missing Anandam 2.0 feels like a wound beyond words. Yesterday, I was deeply engaged in austerities at home — hosting guests, fulfilling duties, and keeping my mind steady. And yet, even amidst all of that, a part of me was constantly mindful of what was unfolding in Pune. At a subtle level, I was connecting with the Panchatattva, almost as though my spirit was there in Nandu Hall while my body remained here.

This morning, when I woke up to the glimpses of videos and images shared by a dear friend, and when a few therapists reached out saying they missed my presence, emotions surged within me. My teacher and a few senior therapists too had asked me to come, and when they learned the reason for my absence, they understood the pain I carried within. That acknowledgment itself felt like a blessing — as though my longing and sincerity were also a tribute to my study, a silent offering in their own way.

Still, a question lingers within — what mistake did I make that I couldn’t attend this gathering? Did I not put in the honest efforts these past two years? Was I selfish somewhere that the five elements withheld their grace? These thoughts keep arising, pricking my heart with a quiet ache.

And yet, life weaves its own design. Coincidentally, we have a family function today — another form of austerity through kirtan. Perhaps this too is divine arrangement. Somewhere, the Lord and the Panchatattva are blessing me in ways unseen, preparing me to step into another dimension in my journey, at a more subtle and inward level.

Even from afar, Anandam 2.0 stirred something in me. Just thinking of the energy that must have filled Nandu Hall makes my heart throb with both sadness and reverence. Perhaps this longing itself is my offering, my invisible bridge to what I missed.

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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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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.

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.