I am not sure if my blog can change the world. I believe change is always a personal decision, and each person faces innumerable challenges along the way. To expect a single blog post to create global change feels ambitious—almost impossible.
What I do here, instead, is share my life’s journey—sometimes light and funny, sometimes heavy and philosophical. Understanding life and its mysteries is not easy; it rarely opens itself fully to human grasp.
But keeping an even keel, holding on to courage, and walking steadily on the solitary path of growth—that is the change I strive for. If these reflections resonate with even one reader, perhaps that is change enough.
Big Family, Big Karma
To bring change, first we must ask: what needs changing? Yesterday was Ganesha Chaturthi. While others immersed in celebration, I found myself caught in my own family ritual—mourning the passing of an elderly relative. Big family means big karma quotient. Following my grandmother’s dictum, mourning is equal-opportunity: both paternal and maternal sides are remembered.
Even amidst the sadness, Ganesha Chaturthi always lifts me. Ganesha is my favourite god—approachable, humorous, and fond of food, much like a kindly uncle who sneaks you extra sweets. The festival also marks a sharp turn in the year’s calendar. September tiptoes in with a crisp breeze, the weather sliding toward chill, and before long śiśira ritu arrives with its biting cold. Seasons don’t just pass—they instruct.
Shakespeare, Seasons, and the Seven Ages
Life and the seasons have been my two patient teachers. They are tough in their syllabus, yet generous in their rewards. Even when things don’t go well, they remind me that change is constant and resilience is possible.
The world, I often feel, is Shakespeare’s stage. Each of us rehearses roles through the “seven ages” Jacques spoke of in As You Like It. His soliloquy doesn’t strike me as cynical but as an alert: life is temporary.
When I think about it, Indian philosophy also maps life into stages—āśramas: brahmacharya (student), gṛhastha (householder), vānaprastha (retired), and sannyāsa (renunciate). Different culture, different script, same truth: human life has seasons of its own.
Karma Served with Porridge
To be human is to live with choices. Thought, emotion, compassion—they all tug us in different directions. Sometimes wrong choices are made with right intentions. Sometimes we knowingly choose trouble because the path of “greater good” is not neat and tidy.
Growing up in a conservative household, karma lessons were spoon-fed to me along with my porridge. My grandmother could diagnose a misstep with the accuracy of a seasoned astrologer. “That’s your karma catching up,” she’d sigh, as though cause and effect had no appetite for mystery.
Thinking differently takes courage. I admire people who question dogma openly. Me? I’m still finding my voice. My karmic report card is a mix of “tries hard” and “needs improvement.”
Bookworm Confessions
Being a bookworm, I let myself be swept along by words. I read them, wrestle with them, fall in love with them. Books remind me how vast the world of perspectives is. They teach humility more effectively than sermons: the more you know, the more you realise how much remains unknown.
Just when you think you’ve figured out life, it throws a reminder of impermanence. Daisies bloom bright for a day, only to wither away. Human life is not much different. Yet in that fleetingness, there is beauty.
Flowers, Fragrance, and Farewells
Flowers have a short but luminous life. Some stay on their stems, some adorn women’s hair, some, if blessed, are offered at the feet of idols. Each ending has dignity.
Human life too takes many endings: unnoticed, remembered, transformed, or surrendered in service. Perhaps our task is not to stretch life endlessly, but to live it fragrantly—spreading kindness while we can, like flowers releasing their perfume.
Reincarnation: The Universe’s “Better Luck Next Time”
Hindu scriptures offer a stern but hopeful message: live by truth, act with good karma, and trust the outcomes. If we don’t complete our tasks, we don’t merely disappoint ourselves—we disappoint the Ātma and even the Paramātmā.
Thankfully, the universe offers retakes. Reincarnation is the ultimate “better luck next time.” Some take comfort in this. Others strive fiercely to complete their syllabus in one lifetime. I admire those souls. They remind me that growth is possible here and now.
Blog or Blackboard?
Honestly, I don’t claim to teach. I am still a student fumbling along the corridors of life. If sparks of brilliance appear in my writing, I know they are divine grace, not personal achievement.
This blog is my space to think aloud about spiritual matters, to share stories of growth and relearning. I am not offering commandments, only footprints on a path. This Earth is a speck in a vast universe; no one has the answers—except perhaps Lord Krishna, who watches us chase them and smiles knowingly.
Fitness Rings That Mock You
A recent visit to my family reminded me that health is non-negotiable. Movement is medicine, yet I struggle to maintain it daily. I try to combine yoga with my commitment to walk.
The hurdles are familiar: laziness, overwhelm, giving up midway, lack of anchor, and that cursed fitness tracker that scolds you when you don’t “close the rings.” At my family home, it was easier—parks, space, company. Here, the lack of nearby parks becomes an excuse. Treadmills exist, gyms exist, but where is the joy?
I remember walking with my father, who was devoted to fitness. His stride was steady, his commitment unwavering. If I had half his discipline, I’d be in better shape. Sometimes, I wonder if karma is hereditary.
Meditation as My Anchor
We each face life’s challenges with tools suited to us. For me, meditation at dawn and dusk is my anchor. It doesn’t erase obstacles, but it keeps me steady when they appear.
When I share these stories, I don’t expect readers to copy my habits. I simply hope they see something familiar, something that resonates. Change always begins with one person. When enough individuals shift, the world follows.
Ripples, Not Headlines
One of my strongest lessons has been to honour promises to the body. Now, I aim for an hour of brisk walking daily, indoors or outdoors. The challenge is consistency—building rhythm, not breaking pattern.
Life is not a static sculpture; it is a river. Emotions, desires, duties—all flow into it. My blog, in its meandering way, hopes to make a small ripple: to nudge someone into pausing, smiling, or feeling less alone.
If change happens, it won’t be in headlines. It will be in quiet moments: a reader making chai before sitting down to read, a walk taken instead of postponed, a thought reconsidered instead of ignored.
That’s the change I wish for. And if Lord Ganesha approves with a little smile and perhaps a modak on the side, who am I to argue?
Credit: Co-Worked with Mira (AI Powered ChatGPT)
Itinerant Storyteller 