Life after double mastectomy.

There are moments in life that divide time into before and after. 

My mastectomy was one of them. It wasn’t just a surgery; it was the day my body became a battlefield, and I learned what it truly meant to fight for life, not vanity, not perfection — but survival, dignity, and hope.

I remember the fear, the quiet tears, the strength I didn’t know I had, and the love that held me together when my body felt like it was falling apart. I remember the hospital smells, the scars, the exhaustion… but also the courage that slowly took root in place of fear. The day I woke up without what once defined femininity, I discovered a deeper, fiercer version of womanhood — one that isn’t shaped by physical form, but by resilience, grace, and unyielding spirit.

My scars tell a story — not of loss, but of life reclaimed. They are reminders that I stayed, I endured, and I chose myself. They are the tattoos of survival, etched into skin and soul. I learned to love this new body, not because it is flawless, but because it is brave, capable, and still full of life.

This journey taught me that healing isn’t just physical. It’s emotional, spiritual, deeply human. It taught me gratitude — for breath, for mornings, for laughter, for second chances. I didn’t come out of this experience unchanged; I came out transformed.

I am not “less”. I am not “broken”.
I am still here.
And that is everything.

Every scar, a story of healing.

My  scars are more than lines on my skin—they are chapters of courage written by my survival. They remind me of the battles my body fought silently, the pain I endured, and the strength I never knew I had. Each scar tells a story not of what was taken from me, but of what I gained—resilience, patience, and a deeper appreciation for life.

In the beginning, I saw them as reminders of fear and vulnerability. I remembered the hospital lights, the uncertainty, the recovery days that felt endless. But with time, I learned to see them differently. These scars are proof that healing is possible. They are symbols of second chances, of hope stitched back together, of life continuing despite struggle.

Today, I honor my scars. They are not imperfections—they are badges of bravery. They whisper to me, “You survived, you healed, and you’re still here—stronger than before.” My scars are a testament to my journey, a reminder that even after pain, beauty and strength remain.

My jar of hearts.

I hold a jar of hearts—not the fragile kind made of glass, but the quiet, invisible kind we collect over time. Each one holds a story. Some are warm with kindness, some ache with lessons, and some still glow faintly with what-could-have-been.

This jar reminds me how deeply I have loved, how bravely I have trusted, and how fully I have felt. It is proof that I have lived honestly, even when life wasn’t gentle. Not every heart returned the same tenderness; not every memory remains sweet. But each one shaped me.

There is weight in this jar, yes—but also wisdom. I am learning to hold it gently, not as a burden, but as a reminder of strength: that I can break and still rebuild, give and still protect, hope and still grow wiser.

My jar of hearts is not a symbol of loss; it is a quiet testament to resilience, to healing, and to the courage it takes to keep feeling in a world that sometimes forgets how.

My jar of hearts is a quiet space to hold feelings, memories, and the weight of what I've carried.

Photo courtesy Google.

You cannot lie to your own soul.

You may hide truths from others, wear masks, speak rehearsed words, and pretend strength when you are breaking inside. But when the world grows quiet and the heart begins to whisper, your soul always knows what is real. It recognizes your fears, your unspoken desires, your silent wounds, and the dreams you keep postponing.

The soul holds an honesty that cannot be edited or disguised. It reflects who you truly are—not who you try to be for acceptance, approval, or comfort. And while that honesty can sometimes feel uncomfortable, it is also your greatest guide. It nudges you toward healing, toward growth, toward the life that aligns with your truth.

So listen gently. Sit with what your soul reveals, even when it feels inconvenient. Honesty with yourself is not a weakness; it is the beginning of clarity, peace, and inner strength.

Aging of a soul.

Aging of a soul” can mean many things—growth through experience, the quieting of ego, the accumulation of scars and wisdom, or the gentle softening that comes with understanding life more deeply. As years pass, the soul does not grow old the way the body does. It stretches instead—widening with every joy, every grief, learning to hold contradictions without breaking. Where it was once restless, it becomes curious. Where it was once proud, it becomes humble. Where it once demanded answers, it begins to cherish questions. Aging, for the soul, is not decay— it is becoming spacious enough to love more, and brave enough to accept what cannot be changed

The pains of life.

The aches and pains of life keep me grounded. They remind me that I am human—vulnerable, imperfect, and constantly evolving. Every struggle, every setback, every discomfort has shaped me in ways comfort never could. Pain teaches patience, humility, and strength. It strips away illusions and helps me see what truly matters. It slows me down, makes me reflect, and pushes me to grow. In the quiet moments of life, I learn resilience. In the storms, I discover my courage. And through it all, I remain rooted, grateful for the journey, aware of my fragility, yet empowered by my endurance.

Where the heart find memories.

There’s something about this  that brings back memories of quieter days—when time moved slower, and life felt simpler. The still water, the distant horizon, and the cloudy sky remind me of moments spent just looking out, thinking about nothing. It feels like a place where laughter once echoed, where familiar voices and old stories lived, and where the heart always found a bit of peace. Even if the world has changed since then, the feeling remains—the comfort of knowing that some places will always hold a piece of who we were.

Rays of hope to soothe my soul.

These sun rays feel like they’re reaching out to remind me that light always finds a way through.  Sometimes life settles into silence, and the sky feels dimmer than it should. But then moments like this appear—quiet, gentle, unexpected. Rays of hope don’t always burst in loudly; often they arrive softly, painting the sky with reassurance. They whisper that endings can glow with beauty, that darkness can hold light, and that even when I feel small beneath a vast sky, I am still held by something brighter than I realize. Today, this sunset reminds me to trust the horizon, breathe, and keep moving forward with hope.

Chasing sunset on a quiet road.

Sometimes a quiet  road ahead isn’t perfectly lit—it stretches quietly into the evening, with only hints of where it bends or leads. Yet there is beauty in that uncertainty. The fading sun reminds us that even endings can be gentle, calm, and full of color. Life moves forward, slowly and silently, like the lone rider on the road, trusting the path even when it narrows. In moments like this, we learn to breathe, to watch, to feel, and to simply be present… knowing that every sunset carries the quiet promise of a new dawn.

A moment of stillness, a lifetime of perspective.

Standing above the vast stretch of earth, I’m reminded how small my worries truly are. The clouds may gather and the sky may darken, yet the light always finds a way through—softly, quietly, but powerfully. There’s a calm in this moment, a silent reminder that life moves at its own rhythm, and all I need to do is breathe and trust.

There’s something humbling about standing here, watching the world stretch endlessly beneath me. From this height, everything that once felt overwhelming suddenly seems small—almost fleeting. The clouds hang heavy above, like the moments in life that feel uncertain and storm-like. But even through the thickest clouds, the sun still reaches down in gentle rays, reminding me that light never truly disappears; it only hides for a while.

In this stillness, I feel life pause. There are no loud voices, no expectations, no rush—just the silent rhythm of nature breathing. The land below has seen storms, seasons, growth, and change, yet it remains steady. And perhaps that’s what life is trying to teach me: to stay grounded even when skies turn dark, to trust the journey even when the path ahead isn’t clear.

Up here, I find clarity. I realize I don’t need all the answers right now. I only need faith in the process, patience with myself, and courage to keep moving. The world is vast, time is generous, and life is unfolding in ways I don’t always see yet.

Sometimes, all healing needs is a moment like this—quiet, honest, and deeply human.

Through the clouds I find myself.

Sometimes life feels like a sky full of clouds—heavy, uncertain, and overwhelming. Yet even behind the darkest moments, light is always waiting to break through. Growth doesn’t come from constant sunshine; it comes from learning to stand strong through the storms and trusting that clarity will return. I am still evolving, still learning, and that is enough.

Where the river carries silence, forgetting to hurry.

Standing before this calm stretch of water, one is reminded that life doesn’t always need to rush forward. The gentle flow of the river, the quiet guardianship of the palms, and the serene presence of the temple whisper a truth we often forget — peace isn’t something we go searching for outside; it is something that arises when we pause, breathe, and simply be. In the stillness, reflections become clearer, worries soften, and the world feels kinder. Sometimes, all we need is a moment like this to return to ourselves.

Nature pauses, flight continues.

A white breath of morning 

slips between green thoughts, 

wings stitching silence 

into the fabric of air. 

No path, no promise— 

only the grace of going, 

remembering how to fly.

A road wrapped in green, carrying untold stories.

Some journeys don’t begin with a destination in mind. They begin with a stretch of road, a quiet sky, and the gentle understanding that you don’t need to rush. 

This road, framed by green hills and ancient rocks, feels like a pause between chapters of life. The sky hangs heavy with clouds—not threatening, just thoughtful—like it’s holding stories it isn’t ready to tell yet. The traffic moves steadily, each vehicle carrying its own purpose, its own urgency, its own unspoken dreams. 

As I travel this road, I notice how nature refuses to be hurried. The hills stand patient, unchanged by time. The trees lean in as if watching us pass, reminding us that movement is temporary, but presence is lasting. There is something comforting about roads like these. They don’t demand answers. They simply ask you to keep going, one lane at a time, trusting that clarity often arrives mid-journey, not at the end. 

Sometimes, the road itself is the lesson: move forward, stay grounded, and let the sky do its thinking above you.

Where the forests breathe.

In the hush of green canopies and drifting light, I remember that not everything needs an answer. Some days are meant to be felt—leaf by leaf, breath by breath—until the heart grows lighter and the mind finds its way home.

Whenever I look at trees, something inside me slows down. The noise I carry—deadlines, expectations, unanswered questions—loses its sharpness. They doesn’t demand clarity or speed. It doesn’t ask me who I am or where I’m going. It simply allows me to be.

I’ve realized that trees teach without speaking. They show me how strength doesn’t always look rigid; sometimes it bends, grows unevenly, reaches for light in unexpected ways. They remind me that growth can be messy and still be beautiful. That coexistence is not weakness, but wisdom.

Standing before such greenery, I often think about time. These trees have witnessed storms I never knew, seasons I’ll never see again. And yet, they stand—quietly resilient. In their presence, my worries feel smaller, not because they don’t matter, but because life is larger than them.

This image feels like a pause. A moment where the world isn’t rushing forward but gently unfolding. It reminds me that peace isn’t always found by escaping life, but by returning to what is natural—stillness, connection, and the simple act of noticing.

Sometimes, all I need is to remember that somewhere, a forest exists —waiting, breathing, and offering calm to anyone willing to look.

A moment of calm.

Beneath a sky brushed soft with wandering blue,
Palm leaves whisper secrets the wind once knew.
Clouds drift slowly, unburdened by time,
While green earth breathes in a rhythm divine.
In this quiet meeting of light and tree,
The heart remembers how free it can be.

A pause between what was and what will be.

Standing where the hills dissolve into mist, I am reminded that clarity does not always come from seeing everything. Some paths are meant to be walked with trust rather than certainty. The lone tree, steady and patient, holds its ground as clouds pass through—teaching quiet resilience. In moments like this, nature doesn’t demand answers; it simply invites stillness. And in that stillness, something within gently settles.

Rural calm.

Standing here, I sense how much of life is meant to flow gently—like this water—without constant pushing. The fields remind me that even when things look bare or unfinished, they are quietly preparing. I, too, am learning to trust these in-between moments, to let stillness do its work, and to believe that what is meant to grow will grow in its own time.

When the river pauses the soul listens.

Stillness learns the language of water here—
where the river loosens its breath
around patient stones.

Light drifts, thin as a remembered promise,
touching leaves that have learned
how to wait without asking.

Nothing hurries.
Even time slips its sandals off
and wades in quietly,
afraid to disturb the calm
that knows exactly where it belongs.

Quietly blooming.

In a hush of morning light,
you bloom without asking—
white as a promise the heart still keeps.
Petals fold secrets into silence,
teaching the world how gentleness
can be a kind of strength.

Whispers of hope in the dark.

Soft suns of silence drift in air,
Each fragile thread a whispered prayer.
From one small bloom, a thousand dreams,
Carried away on hopeful beams.

Soft as silence, calm as grace.

In quiet light, a white rose breathes,
Petals folded like whispered prayers.
It teaches the heart a softer strength—
To bloom without noise,
To shine without asking,
And to remain pure
Even when the world leans close.

Nature's quiet glow.

Golden hush of morning light,
you open like a held breath released—
petals cupping the sun,
a quiet fire glowing at your heart.

Red whispers ripple inward,
as if dawn left its signature there,
and the breeze pauses
to listen to your color speak.

You bloom without asking,
teaching the world this simple truth:
beauty doesn’t shout—
it stands, radiant, and lets the light find it.

Where light slips through, hope always blooms.

Through quiet leaves, the sun finds its way,
A gentle promise breaking through the grey.
Even when shadows gather and stay,
Light remembers us—and chooses to play.

Quiet and reflective.

I pause where earth meets cloud,
Learning that not all journeys move forward,
Some simply teach the heart to stay,
And trust the calm before the storm.

Urban lines meeting nature's calm.

Between concrete dreams and quiet water,
the city pauses to breathe.
Buildings whisper their stories,
trees listen without judgment,
and the lake remembers what we forget—
that even in the blur of living,
there is reflection, and there is calm.

Where the river meets the sky.

At the edge of day,
I pause—
where the river learns the color of the sky.
Light fades gently,
as if the sun is whispering
“rest now.”

The wind moves the grass,
not to hurry time,
but to remind me
that letting go
can be beautiful too.

In this quiet moment,
I find myself—
unspoken, unbroken,
flowing.

A pause wrapped in blue and green.

A quiet river holds the sky’s reflection, framed by wandering branches and open fields. A lone palm stands in the distance, steady and calm, as the breeze carries stories only nature understands. In this simple moment, time slows, and peace feels close enough to touch.

Pastel dreams at the edge of the sea.

The sky blushes in quiet surrender,
peach and rose melting into the sea.
Footsteps trace stories on waiting sand,
each one unspoken, yet deeply felt.

Blooming of a bud in comparison to graceful aging.

Old age, to me, is more than the withering of a flower. It is 

 the quiet, graceful moment when a bud finally blossoms. For years, life keeps us tightly wrapped—busy proving, building, striving, and surviving. We hold ourselves closed, protecting dreams, emotions, and truths, waiting for the right season.

In old age, that season arrives gradually though scarry.

Like a bud opening to the sun, there is a soft release. The urgency to impress fades, and in its place grows clarity. Petals unfold slowly—wisdom shaped by mistakes, patience earned through loss, compassion deepened by love. Nothing is hurried; everything is authentic.

A blossom does not apologize for its lines or its fragility. Similarly, old age carries wrinkles not as signs of decline but as delicate veins of experience, each telling a story of endurance and growth. The flower is no longer preparing—it is.

There is also courage in this blooming. Just as a bud risks exposure to wind and rain, old age embraces vulnerability—speaking truths once silenced, loving without fear, and resting without guilt.

To blossom late is not to be late at all. It is to bloom when the roots are strongest.

Old age, then, is life’s most honest flowering—quiet, complete, and deeply beautiful. 

The sky's quiet story.

The sky doesn’t rush to reply.
It stretches, gathers clouds,
holds silence like wisdom.

When questions crowd my heart,
I look up.
Some answers come as light,
some as storms,
and some arrive only as patience.

The sky reminds me
that not every answer is immediate,
not every doubt needs words,
and sometimes,
standing still beneath vastness
is itself the reply.

Nature's quiet promise.

As the sun lifts itself from the edge of the sea, light gently replaces darkness, reminding me that every day begins with a second chance. The waves keep moving forward, unburdened by yesterday, teaching me that starting again doesn’t have to be loud—it can be calm, steady, and full of hope. In this moment, the world feels renewed, and so do I.

Sunrise by the sea.

The sunrise feels like a quiet promise kept. As the sun lifts itself from the horizon, the sea holds its reflection gently, as if not wanting to disturb the moment. The sky glows in layers of gold and amber, reminding me that beginnings don’t have to be loud to be powerful. The silhouettes along the shore seem small against the vastness, yet deeply connected—witnesses to a daily miracle. In this stillness, time slows, thoughts soften, and hope rises with the light, whispering that every day, no matter how heavy the night before, it is given a fresh start.

Cancer, the creeping crab.

Cancer walks in quietly,
Uninvited, unannounced,
A storm that bends the branches
But cannot steal the roots.

It teaches nights to listen,
And days to breathe with care,
Turning fear into small prayers
Whispered between heartbeats.

Pain may write its chapters,
But courage holds the pen,
Hope flickers like a candle
Refusing to extinguish.

Scars become soft reminders
Of battles bravely fought,
And every fragile sunrise
Feels hard-earned and alive.

Cancer may test the body,
But it cannot claim the soul—
For love, faith, and quiet strength
Outgrow even the deepest wounds.

Mystical mist.

Mystical mist feels like a gentle pause in the rush of the world. It softens sharp edges, blurs certainty, and invites the heart to wander inward. In its quiet presence, things are not fully revealed, yet nothing feels lost. The mist teaches patience—reminding me that clarity does not always arrive at once, and that some truths unfold slowly, in their own time.

There is comfort in not seeing everything clearly. Wrapped in mist, the world feels forgiving, as if it allows room for reflection, healing, and hope. It mirrors life itself—moments when the path ahead is uncertain, but faith, intuition, and inner strength guide the way. In that gentle obscurity, I find calm, trust, and the courage to keep moving forward, even when the destination remains unseen.

Where roots hold stories, leaves learn to dream

This feels like a quiet reminder that nature and humanity are not separate, but deeply intertwined. The tree shaped like a woman suggests how we grow together with the earth—our roots holding memories, our branches reaching for hope. Her bowed posture feels gentle and reflective, as if she is listening to the wind or carrying the wisdom of seasons gone by. The leaves around her speak of renewal, while the wooden curves tell stories of endurance. To me, it is a symbol of balance: strength wrapped in softness, resilience shaped by care, and life continuing through connection with nature.

Photo courtsey Google

A reflection.

Cancer, the emperor of maladies,  to me is not just a disease of the body but a profound test of the human spirit. It arrives uninvited and often without reason, disrupting lives, plans, and identities in ways few other illnesses do. Yet within this harsh reality, cancer also reveals the quiet strength that people carry within them—strength they may never have known they possessed.

It teaches humility, reminding us that life is fragile and time is precious. It changes priorities, making small moments matter more than distant ambitions. For those who face it directly or stand beside someone who does, cancer reshapes compassion, deepens empathy, and strips life down to what truly counts: care, connection, and hope.

While fear and pain are undeniable parts of the journey, so are resilience and courage. Cancer does not define a person, but how one responds to it does. In that response—whether through fighting, enduring, or simply living each day with grace—there is a powerful testament to the strength of the human heart.

A quiet and thoughtful sky.

 The soft pink clouds spreading gently across the evening sky, as if the day is slowly exhaling before night arrives. The fading light carriying a sense of calm, while the silhouettes below, remind me of everyday life continuing beneath this peaceful moment. It feels like a pause in time, inviting reflection, gratitude, and a gentle slowing down of thoughts

Memories

Memories are quiet treasures we carry with us, shaping who we are long after the moments themselves have passed. They return unexpectedly—in a familiar smell, a song, or a place—and for a brief time, we are transported back to feelings of warmth, innocence, or comfort. Some memories make us smile, others teach us lessons, but all of them remind us of where we’ve been and how we’ve grown. Though time moves forward, memories allow us to pause, reflect, and hold on to pieces of our past that continue to live within us.

A quiet moment of connection.

Birds resting on power lines feel like a meeting point between the human-made world and the natural one. Even in the middle of infrastructure and routine, nature finds a way to pause, gather, and exist on its own terms.

It’s a reminder that connecting to nature doesn’t always mean going far away—sometimes it’s just about noticing what’s already around you, looking up, and letting your breath slow for a second.

Enchanting Lake Forest.

"Nature has been for me, for as long as I remember, a source of solace,  inspiration, adventure and delight;  a home, a teacher, a companion." Lorraine Anderson

Yercaud, The Lake Forest a mist-clad, hill station  refreshes, rejuvenates, heals and delights your very being and everything about it touches something deep inside your soul. As you go up, the breathtaking views enthrall you, with the hair pin bends and on some of them you can get a stunning view of the twists above and below too. As you climb up it is amazing to see the sun and mist play hide and seek; clouds playing mischief with a touch and go game;  everything around you embrace to make a complete, beautiful painting in your heart and soul.

The morning chill breeze, mysterious mist, gorgeous hills, canopy of the forest, the rains and the sea of lights at night does make the place an enchanting - Jewel of the south. The chill breeze flows in through your nose and rejuvenates your heart, soul, mind and body. The damp, cool, crispy wind and rains hits you and awakens you to a fantastic, breathtaking view of your surroundings. The flowers and butterflies, take you through an enchanting journey of life, reminding you of the beauty of life, its meaning and mysteries. You see a butterfly kiss each flower, and the flowers dance in the gentle breeze that joins them.

The Lake Forest is such a place where you realize the meaning of the poem,
"Count your garden by the flowers,
Never the leaves that fall."
Even the fallen leaves and flowers make a tapestry of carpet with the fragrance of it still lingering in the air. Each flower and the butterflies hovering around is a sight to behold and one that is awe inspiring. The tall trees with silvery leaves, the peppers climbing the trees with its green and red corns, making the mystic chilly hilly panoramic view,  breathtaking and beautiful.

The mist-laden hills and the valley below, is a magical landscape of unparalleled natural beauty and freshness. The undulating hills bathed in a bluish green hue, the clouds bending down to hug the hills, lush valley and forest drenched in the sunshine, veils of mist that roam aimlessly,   the fresh air, many moods of the hills and a faint fragrance of the flowers is a panorama of immense scenic beauty. The hills caressed by a blanket of mist, the mysterious mist steals silently in,  hides the landscape in its mysterious cloak,  then  clears suddenly to find yourself in an enchanted place, contradicting itself the way it conceals and reveals. The mist swathes and discloses the beauty of the hills.

An enchanting and picturesque misty soul station, with  the  scintillating  lake surrounded with flowers and garden. The lovely placid lake that entices you to take a boat ride and drink in the beauty around it. The birds just glide through in the wind and the valleys from the hill top is amazing to watch. Even in the heavy rainfall,   sun amazingly outshines the rains in its full splendorous, beauty leaving the beholder gaze in open mouthed admiration at the rare sight of rain and the setting sun. The cluster of rocks, the valley, forests from the different view points is breathtakingly beautiful, with the cool wind whistling in your ears. The panoramic view of the plains and the bends in the ghats seen through the top of the trees leave you in a state of pure bliss.

The bird's eye view of the lake, the valley and the forest is beautiful and at night the whole place looks like an enchanted place with a sea of lights and the night sky glittering with the winking twinkling stars. You get the most mesmerizing view as night falls and Salem lights up at the foot of the hill, like it is a sea of lights or a glittering sea of stars fallen from the sky.  Sometimes the mist engulfs everything in its mysterious cloak, and the spooky breeze chills your spine.

The mountains get enveloped with clouds and you can see nothing but mist, and the mist hugging you, enhances the experience, especially when you love hills and mist. The Lake Forest refreshes and rejuvenates you, all you need to do is relax and inhale the fresh mountain misty air; you feel your heart and soul dancing to the music of the enchanting valley.

"The enchanting Lake Forest beckons me,
Where nature whispers sweet nothings,
Where the clouds touch your heart,
Where the sky  tempts you to soar high,
Where the depths of the valley invite,
Where the lush greenery of  canopy in forest lures,
Where the sea of lights glitter like gems,
Where  stupendous sunsets outshine rains,
Where mist hides you in its magic cloak,
Where peacocks dance with all its significance,
Where the hills are bathed in twilight light,
Where the chill breeze whistles and caress you,
Where the scintillating lake allures you to drink in, its beauty,
Where  rustle of  leaves stir up your mind,
Where majestic silver oak trees standing tall evoke,
Where birds just glide in the wind,
Where butterflies flutter in magic of 'the moment,'
Where fragrance of the beautiful flowers enthrall,
Where rains drench to quench your soul."

The love song of the soul, Pain.

Everytime I am in  pain I can choose my attitude towards it.There have been times I  felt betrayed by my body, leaving me frustrated and bitter. But in reality it is me who is betraying my body by not heeding to its warning signals. 

“Life’s challenges are not supposed to paralyze you, they’re supposed to help you discover who you are.” ~Bernice Johnson Reagon

I have been blessed with the time, energy, family and friends who can gently and lovingly support me on a path to wholeness. And I am grateful for the pain, because it calls me home. It reminds me that I have work to finish. Actually pain is a love song from my soul. It’s not punishment, but rather a gift  to show me the way back to my life.

 I  embrace pain, making it burn  as fuel for my journey,  learning to live with it though it can be crippling at times.  I prefer walking bravely through pain’s cleansing fire, although it does scare me at times  burning  so brightly that I  walk in knowing it will hurt me a lot. But I know I  will come out on the other side stronger and more complete. There is a beauty in pain that  even happiness cannot touch, because I risked  letting  myself feel it. Pain is what  brings me back to myself .

Pain is a part of my experience, not something I  run away from, to escape. Pain will find me somehow, and to go through its cleansing fire is one of the truest things that can happen to value  life. There is gift in pain, because it makes me find a meaning for life.Ultimately the pain is a fact  of endurance of a truth of my being.....wading through life with a  body of complicated pains.

Solitary Raindrop

I always wonder what it would be like to be a raindrop. I love to get drenched in the rain.......splash puddles and watch the raindrops.  The daily events in nature are  incredible. When you give a closer look at a raindrop falling off a leaf after a rain -- may not seem very interesting to many. But  it happens so quickly and it's actually a precarious situation between water, the leaf and the air. 

A raindrop is tiniest of all tranquil things in nature. When a raindrop falls on me; it gives a strange sensation. It seems to sink into my skin, quenching the thirst of the parched soul,  a symbol of hope and optimism, and as more drops start falling from the sky, the sensation of the first drop remains  in my memory. I feel there  is no better form of rejuvenation compared to one that comes from nature. From all perspectives, raindrops just dance and fall down to make a puddle. Have you ever taken a walk through the rain and watched a puddle? The raindrops seem to touch down at just the right pace, causing a dance of vanishing ripples.

It's a tiny mirror that reflects everything around, unmasked and clear.  Though it lasts just a few moments, its memory lasts forever. 

The sky, my solace.

I always seek my answers in the vast expanse of the sky. It is an umbrella to all that is called life.  There is nothing more inspiring than simply staring out into the sky and watching the clouds drift by making different formations.  Sometimes the sky is cloudy, yet between  the clouds that promise rain,  there is a speck of blue. 

At times the sky is  like a child that  begins to draw on it with a special pencil and then erases it in a way that smudges it   spreading grey in a blue sky. The vast expanse of the sky can be blue and bright on one side, grey with clouds about to burst open on another side and with white fluffy clouds too depicting all the facets of life. The sky is always a constant changing canvas, an endless canvas where colors get tossed upon. Some days  a pure, uninterrupted blue  stretches seamlessly across the field of vision, giving solace to the heart, soul and mind. 

As the sun rises or sets, it is like a  painting, where bright pinks, blues, yellows and oranges pile on top of each other, reflecting on low hanging clouds and fills the world with a haze of wonder. But when it storms, the harsh glow of lightning illuminates the piles of dull grey clouds.   The sky is alive, growing at each passing moment..
It never fails to amaze me and give answers to my questions.

Inspiration in a sunset.

There is nothing that  would surpass the inspiration in experiencing a sunset. Many feel depressed seeing a sunset, but I always ask myself how a sunset can be depressing? Though it is a time the sun leaves the sky painting it with spectacular colors, bading goodbye to the day; it is also a promise that it will rise again the next day. Most sunsets are spectacular and vibrant colour palettes  painted across Mother Nature’s canvas. The sky turns into many different shades as the sun sinks behind the horizon and I  find that sunset is a time of inspiration. 

I feel that sunset doesn’t symbolise the end of life, but if you observe carefully, it offers answers to many of life’s questions itself. One of my little Joy's is to find time to watch a breathtaking sunset. There are so many different styles, colors and inspiration that I find at that simple moment. Sitting still to watch the sky change colors and the curtain of twilight fall,  is  one of the most relaxing times. 

  Unique are the sunrises and sunsets that open and close each day, giving another opportunity to use the moments in-between every day.  When the clock is up, the sun fades into the background to be replaced by the moon which shines brightly to reminding of the inner spark and  light. When I look out  the sunset is my reminder that  indeed everything is fine. As the disappears, so do my problems of the day — as it reappears at the horizon — it’s a new day. 

Sai Balaji Cancer Clinic Women's group.

SBCC Women's group is a group with a difference, where cancer is not discussed but one that takes away the stress of life. These meetings help us  cope with the emotional aspects  providing a safe place to share  feelings and challenges by discussing a lot of topics allowing  us to learn in the process. We meet the fourth Saturday of every month. Unlike other cancer support groups, cancer is not discussed. We have learning, fun and frolic. Every month it is different and unique in some aspects. 

This meeting started off with a guided relaxation and meditation for the members. Then we had the birthday celebrations followed by a cake cutting. All of us revisited our childhood enjoying every minute of it. Dr. Kalarani discussed on the vast topic 'controlling'. Everyone stated their own views on the topic and then a discussion ensued on it......with a small lesson for each to practice on a day to day basis. 

The beauty of thorn.

I have always loved thorns and been fascinated by them. I can't really explain why I love them; could be because I have tread a thorny path always and then enjoyed the roses. All of us have defense mechanism to help ourselves......so are the thorns for flowers. We fail to see the beauty in the thorns. They aren't pretty and often painful at touch....but they have a rare beauty in them.....far away from perfection and always attached to plants and flowers. There are thorns attached to everything in life......truth is that we avoid them. 

"Roses and thorns are parts of the same plant. Somehow though, some people are concerned mainly about the roses. The rose is not on the plant for more than a week, but the thorns are there forever.
Roses are teaching that the beauty of life will bloom, once you have taught yourself the lessons given by living with the thorns."

Grigoris Deoudis

Be it a frozen thorn or a bare thorn........it has its own beauty.....a frozen thorn is protected at least for a while....but a bare thorn is a vulnerable beauty. The frozen thorn has to break free.....break free of its shackles and liberate itself......to be free and itself. In life too many choices are like that.....you can be bogged down or break free and let go. Isn't it an anchor for life? 

The nightmare

Deep down a veil of black clouds and an endless sea of silence Reena felt herself falling down a bottomless pit. What was it that was happening to her? Why was she falling? Her thoughts were in tumult as she kept tumbling endlessly.  All of a sudden everything went black and she couldn't fathom the what’s or the why’s of her current situation. After a few minutes she landed with a thud. She had no idea of her whereabouts. Slowly she got up, feeling dazed. An eerie feeling engulfed her. A few streaks of light dimly illuminated her surrounding and what she saw in that wispy light froze her blood. 

Reena abruptly woke up in cold sweat, still shaking with the after effect of her nightmare. Why was this dream still haunting her even years after it had actually happened? She got up and walked to the fridge and gulped down a bottle of cold water. She sat down at the table shaking and with a palpitating heart that refused to calm down. Her forehead was swathed in sweat and she gently wiped them, her thoughts going back to her college days when she was living in the hostel. Those were carefree days of her initial college life.

Staying away from home in a hostel for the first time in life, it was a different kind of experience for Reena. A life understood only by those who have experienced it and had a whole lot of fun, a bag of mixed experiences that took one from one’s comfort zone and exposing oneself to the realities of life. It was enriching in so many ways. The hostel and college being new, there were no qualms of ragging. It was situated amidst mountains and scenic landscape, with the only drawback being a graveyard in the front, though that didn't mar the enthusiasm for many. There was a vineyard too close by that the boarders visited the warden as their chaperon.

Hostel life has its own charms; entering a new world with total strangers who undergo the same dilemmas as you makes it a memorable experience. I believe that true knowledge comes from living in a hostel all the while learning to overcome the fears in life, be it being on your own or meeting all kinds of people adjusting with them and bringing out the real you. Reena reflected upon the strangest and scariest experience of her hostel life. She felt a shiver course down her spine. Her thoughts took her back to that night when she had witnessed the most insensitive and scariest sight of her life. 

She had been sick that day and after sleeping for a while she woke up to drink water but couldn't go back to her sleep, try as she might. She wondered what the time was and not wanting to disturb her room mates, went to the window. She was drawn in by the moonbeams that fell on her face. What she saw in the graveyard froze her blood and Reena felt as if she was being whipped with umpteen lashes while worms crawled all over her skin. That evening a lady had been buried in the graveyard. She had seen a corpse for the first time in her life. The body was placed in a bamboo chair and decked with flowers. The deceased was a beautiful lady who looked nothing less than a goddess even in death. 

She was ritualistically buried by her relatives who later left with heavy hearts. Usually the graveyard was deserted. Now under the moonlight Reena saw some men digging the grave and take out the corpse. What followed after that made her hate men in general and especially those perverted animals that didn't even spare the corpse of a woman. She felt like puking her guts out. The retching sound had woken up her friends and at the sight of the graveyard they screamed. How could a man be such an animal! Even animals don't do that. The diggers raped the corpse one by one. Reena thought perhaps the poor woman’s soul had cried out at her cruel fate. 

Reena was very upset. She had always been the one who questioned the plight of women. She kept away from men in general after that scary night. She always kept a safe distance from them because the sight of a man brought back that memory to her mind. The sight had tormented her for months; she would get up in the middle of the night breaking in cold sweat. It haunted her even now.

Reena made herself a piping hot coffee. She sat sipping it with her favourite music on till she was sleepy again and went back to her bed hoping she would never ever see that horrifying dream again. 

A solitary boat.

In a sea of silence
I row a solitary boat into the ocean 
beautiful yet terrifying,
 it's depth so mysterious, yet predictable.

I set my sails to an unknown land 
in an empty boat 
anguish sets it afloat 
letting the wind steer me out to drift far, 
far away from the depth of sunken emotions.

Silence of solitude

Silence and solitude:  

Sometimes silence is so comforting and speaks for itself. Silence caresses like a cool summer breeze, bringing solace to the soul and  surrounds like a fresh, pristine, white blanket of snow on a winter's day. Sometimes it enters the soul like a mother's lullaby. Fragments of thought, splinters of words, and droplets of silence spin  into a kaleidoscopic puzzle, falling into  an incredible new pattern.

There are days when, even a feather would fall without drifting one way or the other,  the grass straight and silent, the leaves dangling more and the only sound is the hammering of your heart against the ribs cage and I can feel the  beating of the wings as birds fly, everything  still, utterly still.....absolute stillness. No air stirring  the grass or leaves,  no clouds drifting.... . Even my own breath dies with an eerie tranquillity,  soothing my senses.  For me the stillness of my soul comes then.  Then I can rest with  my muscles all burnt out,  sit, unwind my mind and let my thoughts flow. And I let life  do what it will; even in the greatest of storms I am still inside, waiting, to rejuvenate and spring back. 

A limited version rebel.

She was a lost soul, broken and weak
with no resistance,
then came a light through the crack
to awaken the rebel in her.

She was different with scars all over,
daring unlike others
sometimes silent and distant,
in her own world.

A rebelling solitary soul,
with a tower of strength,
She   flaunted her scars defying all the rules,
knowing   pain was a challenge  through  everyday,

A born fighter,
she knew she would win the war,
but  a little sore...
fighting pain day in and day out.

A fire in the soul.

I read somewhere that a  lamp's wick, flame and oil resemble man's body, soul and source.

"The soul, like the flame, is a flame of yearning and inspiration, that  burns brightly within ,  inspiring  to connect to nature. It desires fiercely to break the shackles that bogs it down. Yet, like the flame of the candle,  illuminates the inner spirit within.  The body of a man, like the wick of the candle, is both grounded and physical. With all  limitations, many real needs and desires, the body entraps and enslaves the soul within it. Yet, while imposing its restrictions, the body also houses the soul and provides an outlet for its unique expression. The soul can only feel, perceive and savor reality through the body's senses; it can only move about freely with the body's limbs; and it can only think and analyze with the body's mind. The body's very groundedness, then, provides a means and opportunity for the soul's relationship with creation."

Whenever  I go through lot of adversities in my life I always take inspiration from the 'Pheonix' that resurrected itself. Time and again when I am faced with the pains that outnumber all other aspects, I derive inspiration from this bird..
All the wonders you seek are within yourself.” ~Sir Thomas Browne

"History claims that the phoenix began as a common bird that’s nest caught on fire by the hand of a God-like figure. As the fire started to consume the bird, instead of suffering, she decided to dance in the flames. Eventually, the fire reduced the bird to ashes. However, this was not the end of that wise bird, for she knew her ending was only the beginning—the beginning of something greater than what she ever thought possible, a resurrection.The  bird emerged, more powerful and more beautiful than ever. The phoenix represents a rebirth. A rebirth of the body, mind, and soul, that unleashes itself when the spirit is set free from its self-inflicted shackles." I believe it possible, and can relate to it in a lot of ways.

I do believe in this quote, "All the wonders you seek are within yourself, " by Sir Thomas Browne.  I always wondered if this fire burning inside me would find its way out and lead me to live life fully. I learned it the hard way that the fulfillment I desperately sought was in my passion, regardless of what the passion is. I can do something with that I enjoy doing, and it will eventually lead me to a place I never dreamed of. I know I owe it to myself to put to use my  gifts.

The phoenix: she’s in all .... just waiting to be unleashed, that fiery feeling inside,   feeling as though something has to be done to heal .. not wallow in self pity...
It is the passion within that's  waiting to be expressed, and ultimately finding the lost soul. . Of course, one of the scariest things in life is change, but to embrace change is to embrace life. To be true to the feeling inside , urging  to take another road  is to be true to yourself.....and sing along its thorny path.

I know no one can know what truly makes me happy and alive except me. Eventually, my happiness will be enough to make  my yearnings come around—and my joy will be enough to heal me.... be it cooking, decorating, being with nature, or playing music, I find a way to awaken that spark within me , and that will make me glow.....and with this I awaken the phoenix within me,  inspire and become stronger.