The Spirit of India’s Festive Season!!!!!

From August to November, India transforms into a land of light, devotion, and celebration. These months are, without a doubt, my personal favourite. A time when festivals line up one after another, each carrying its own significance, rituals, and emotional depth. The atmosphere becomes magical and serene, filled with positivity and spiritual energy. No matter how heavy life has felt, this season gently lifts the burden, replacing darkness with hope and strength.

It all begins with Saawan, the sacred month of Shravan, devoted to Lord Shiva. For an entire month, devotees immerse themselves in worship, fasting, and reflection. As Saawan concludes, Raksha Bandhan arrives, a celebration of sibling love and lifelong bonds.

Then comes Janmashtami, the joyous birth of Lord Krishna, celebrated with grandeur across India. I was blessed to spend nine beautiful years in Mathura, the heartland of Krishna’s legacy. There, both Saawan and Janmashtami are celebrated with unmatched fervor. The city glows with faith, music, and devotion — August in Mathura is nothing short of magical.

As the festive rhythm continues, September brings the arrival of Lord Ganesha. My professional journey took me to the western part of India, where Ganesh Chaturthi is celebrated in every home. Streets transform into sanctuaries of devotion, adorned with beautifully crafted idols and echoing with chants of Ganpati Bappa Morya.

During an official visit to Mumbai, I had the privilege of witnessing the Lalbaugcha Raja celebration. Standing in that pandal, surrounded by thousands of devotees, receiving Bappa’s blessings, it was a moment of pure magic.

Hailing from the eastern part of India, Navratri has always meant Durga Puja to me. Towering idols, intricately designed pandals, soulful dhak beats, and mesmerizing cultural performances , it’s devotion woven into artistry.

Yet, during my stay in Vadodara, Gujarat, I experienced Navratri in an entirely different light. There, the festival pulses with energy, a vibrant dance of faith and joy. Nights come alive with Garba and Dandiya, as thousands gather in traditional attire, spinning and swaying under starlit skies. It’s not just a celebration, it’s a community in motion.

Only in India can Maa Durga be worshipped in such beautifully distinct ways. In Bengal, she is the fierce yet compassionate mother, vanquisher of evil. In Gujarat, she is the radiant goddess of joy, celebrated through movement and music. Both traditions, though different in expression, are united in reverence and spirit.

Then comes Diwali, the crown jewel of India’s festive calendar. Celebrated across the country with unmatched fervor, Diwali is a celebration of light, prosperity, and renewal. Homes sparkle with diyas and rangoli, families gather in joy, and prayers to Goddess Lakshmi fill the air with hope.

As the festive season draws to a close, Chhath Puja arrives like a serene epilogue , quiet yet profoundly powerful. Celebrated primarily in Bihar, Jharkhand, eastern Uttar Pradesh, and parts of Odisha, this ancient Vedic festival honors the Sun God and Chhathi Maiya, the goddess of purity.

Unlike the grandeur of earlier festivals, Chhath is marked by simplicity, discipline, and deep devotion. Devotees observe rigorous fasts, prepare offerings with utmost care, and gather at riverbanks to offer arghya to the setting and rising sun. The sight of families standing waist-deep in water, hands folded in prayer as the sun dips below the horizon, is one of the most moving spectacles of the season.

The childhood memories of Chhath Puja still resonate deeply in my heart. Waking up early, walking to the ghaat with family and friends, waiting for the prasad especially my favourite, Thekua, distributed on the final day, those moments are etched in my soul. Trust me, the taste of those Thekuas is truly unmatched.

Life, in its mysterious grace, often brings us full circle. After the vibrant rhythms of Gujarat, my professional journey led me back to the East, back to the land of my roots. Returning felt like reconnecting with an old melody, familiar yet deeply moving.

Here, the festive spirit carries a different cadence, one steeped in tradition, emotion, and ancestral pride. The air is thick with nostalgia, the rituals feel more intimate, and every celebration echoes with memories of childhood, family, and belonging.

From the vibrant streets of Mathura to the rhythmic nights of Vadodara, from the grandeur of Durga Puja to the serenity of Chhath, this journey through India’s festive season has been more than a calendar of events. It has been a pilgrimage of the soul.

Each festival, each prayer, each moment has stitched itself into the fabric of my being. And as life brought me full circle, back to East India, I realized that these celebrations are not just traditions. They are reflections of who we are, where we come from, and what we carry forward.

India’s festive season is a reminder that no matter where we go, the spirit of celebration, devotion, and togetherness always finds its way back to us.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stay Connected!!!

You might be wondering—why even talk about staying connected? Isn’t it something we all do anyway?

The truth is, most of the time we stay connected out of necessity—because of work, responsibilities, or some immediate requirement. But what about those who may no longer be tied to our daily priorities, yet once played a pivotal role in our lives?

Our parents, friends, cousins, teachers, relatives, old colleagues, even ex-bosses—at some point, they were close to us. They guided us, supported us, and helped shape us into who we are today.

So here is the honest question: how often do we reach out to them without a reason? Just to ask how they are. Just to let them know they still matter. Just to listen without judgment, and remind them that they can still count on us.

We often hide behind excuses like, “I didn’t have time.” But if we never communicate, how will they ever know we care? Gratitude and love need to be expressed, not assumed.

In today’s fast-paced, nuclear society, communication tools have multiplied, yet real conversations are fading. And with that silence comes distance, leading to loneliness and, at times, depression.

Recently, I came across a video about Japan that really disturbed me. To cope with loneliness, people are hiring services like renting a friend, a family member, or even someone to just listen and provide comfort.

Think about it. In a world where communication has never been easier, why are people still feeling so disconnected that they have to “rent” relationships?

Technology may give us countless ways to connect, but real connection needs intention, not just convenience.

Let’s not wait until loneliness forces people to seek strangers for comfort. A simple message, a call, or a heartfelt conversation can make all the difference.

Stay connected—not because you have to, but because you want the people you love to know they matter. Sometimes, all a heart really needs is to be heard.

 

Rediscovering Soulful Music!!! ( Hai Yehi ek dhun )

Music is very powerful.  It has immense power to motivate, soothe, energize, and even heal. I cannot generalize about it, but music has been an essential part of my life’s journey. Since childhood, I have been biggest Bollywood movie songs fan. I even used to study with music playing in the background. Studying with music in the background is something many people relate to, it creates a rhythm, a sense of companionship, and sometimes even helps with focus. I had a great collection of audio tape cassettes. Back then, there was a fashion of big music players with both cassettes & CD players’ option. Then gradually, it was replaced by Walkman, CD man & ipod. Eventually, with time mobile has turned into music player. Earlier music was not available free on internet. We used to wait for the launch of new music album. Nowadays it’s freely available via apps though.

Anything which is free loses its value. Same goes with music as well. When music was scarce and awaited, it felt more special like a treasure. Now, with everything just a tap away, the emotional anticipation has faded a bit. But perhaps the value has shifted from the medium to the experience.

My playlist is full of songs from the 90s & 2000s. Today it’s more about loud music & less meaningful lyrics. But after a very long time I came across a full album of soulful & meaningful songs. Any guesses, which album I might be referring to. Well, it’s one of the most talked about & trending ones these days amongst gen Z.

In an age where music often feels like a race of beats and bass, Saiyaara movie album arrives like a breath of fresh air, gentle, poetic, and deeply moving. It revives the essence of soulful Bollywood music that many of us grew up cherishing. The soundtrack of Saiyaara is a masterclass in emotional storytelling. Each song is crafted with care, blending heartfelt lyrics with melodies that linger long. For someone like me, who still treasures the golden era of the 90s and 2000s, Saiyaara feels like a homecoming. It reminds us that music doesn’t need to be loud to be heard, it needs to be honest to be felt. In a world of instant streaming and fleeting trends, this album stands out as a rare gem that brings back the magic of meaningful music.

In the end, few lines from my personal favourite song from the album with a twist of mine for the ones who don’t like the word barbaad:

“Inn Ghamon Ko Khatam Kar Rahe Ho Tum

Zakhmon Ka Marham Bann Rahe Ho Tum

Mehsoos Mujhe Aisa Kyun Ho Raha

Ki Meri Duniya Bann Rahe Ho Tum

Tere Bin kya Yeh Dil Ab Dhadak Paayega

Poochta Hoon Main Yeh Khudko

Tere Aane Se Dard Chala Jaayega

Issi Baat se mann hai khush toh

Ki Ho gaya hai pyaar tumse mujhe

Kardega khushaal Ishq Mujhe

Ki HO gaya hai pyaar tumse mujhe

Behadd Beshumaar Tumse mujhe”

Foods that takes us down the sweet memory lane..

 

Foods that takes us down the sweet memory lane..

Some foods have the power to transport us back in time, evoking cherished memories and comforting nostalgia.

For me, that food is Litti Chokha. Having grown up in Dhanbad—the coal capital of India—Litti has always held a special place in my heart. It’s more than just a dish; it’s a slice of my childhood.

This week, I had the joy of relishing my favorite dish after nearly a year. The last time was when my mom visited me. Like all moms, she’s an incredible cook, and her Litti Chokha is simply unmatched.

Every time I eat it, I’m instantly taken back to the winter evenings of my childhood, when our colony would host Litti Chokha parties. The preparation was a community affair—uncles and aunts would gather to roast the wheat balls stuffed with spicy Sattu over coal fires or dried cow dung cakes, infusing them with a smoky aroma that’s impossible to replicate. The crispy crust and flavorful filling were paired with Chokha—a rustic mash of roasted eggplant, tomatoes, and potatoes mixed with mustard oil, garlic, green chilies, and fresh coriander—and sometimes even chicken curry.

We children would sit around the fire, watching the process unfold with wide-eyed excitement, eagerly waiting for the feast to begin. Those moments, filled with warmth, laughter, and the aroma of tradition, are etched in my memory forever.

Back then, picnics and parties were more than just events—they were experiences woven with togetherness.

Community cooking was at the heart of these gatherings, a beautiful way to celebrate, bond, and spend quality time with neighbours and friends. The joy of preparing food together, sharing stories around the fire, and watching recipes come to life was unmatched.

Over the years, this tradition has gradually shifted. Today, celebrations often find their home in restaurants and banquet halls—convenient, yes, but missing that rustic charm and warmth of shared preparation. While the settings may have changed, the memories of those simpler times continue to hold a special place in our hearts.

Recently I came across this thoughtful article on “When the Kitchen falls silent. Effects on family bonding. It beautifully describes the fact that cooking & eating together is an invisible thread that binds families together.

I make it a point to ensure my children—Gen Alpha—experience the warmth and joy of community eating whenever the opportunity arises. It’s heartening to see how much they enjoy it and eagerly look forward to these moments. Watching them embrace the spirit of togetherness and shared meals reminds me of my own childhood, and it gives me hope that these beautiful traditions will continue to thrive through them.

In the end, food is far more than nourishment—it’s memory, emotion, and connection.

Whether it’s the smoky aroma of Litti Chokha or the quiet comfort of a shared kitchen, these moments remind us of the deeper bonds we form through cooking and eating together. As traditions evolve and lifestyles change, it’s important to hold on to these simple joys that bring us closer—not just to our roots, but to each other.

Let’s keep the kitchen alive—not just with flavors, but with laughter, stories, and love.

 

 

 

 

Hope in the heart, caution in the mind…

Our thoughts and beliefs are deeply rooted in the influence of family and society—they form the bedrock of our personality. In childhood, when we are still slowly absorbing these values, we are sheltered by a circle of guardians: parents, siblings, teachers, and friends. They are our first community, shaping us with care and intention.

But as we grow, that protective cocoon begins to thin. We step into the wider world, where the true test begins. Here, we face complexity, challenges, and manipulation. How we respond—whether with resilience, wisdom, or adaptability—becomes the defining force in shaping the course of our lives.

For those who lead with emotion—who trust easily and love deeply—this struggle is even more profound. The heart wants to believe, to embrace, to forgive. But the mind, shaped by experience and caution, urges restraint and practicality.

We often recognize when others exploit our emotional nature. Yet, the compassion and care woven into our personality hold us back from responding with cold logic. It's not ignorance—it’s a conscious choice to remain kind in a world that sometimes rewards detachment. And that choice, though difficult, is a testament to inner strength.

However, the conscious choice to remain kind and compassionate is often misunderstood—and, over time, it can leave us wounded. We extend warmth and trust, not out of naivety, but from a place of deep conviction. Yet those we choose to treat with tenderness rarely recognize the strength it takes to do so. Instead, they mistake our empathy for weakness, our patience for passivity.

Their coldness chips away at us slowly. And by the time we truly grasp the extent of the hurt, the damage is already done. What was once a deliberate act of love becomes a silent sacrifice—unseen, unappreciated, and often unrewarded.

And so, the quiet battle begins. The mind warns us, urges caution, reminds us of past wounds. But the heart holds on, hoping that love and sincerity will eventually be seen for what they truly are. We know the danger. We sense the imbalance. Yet we continue to give, because that’s who we are.

But here’s the painful truth: by the time we fully recognize the toll this takes, the damage is often done. We’re left carrying the weight of unspoken hurt, wondering if our kindness was ever truly seen. The emotional bruises don’t come from being kind—they come from being kind to those who never cared to understand it.

So what do we do?

We don’t stop being who we are. But we learn. We grow. We begin to set boundaries—not to harden our hearts, but to protect them. We start recognizing that kindness doesn’t mean self-sacrifice. That compassion can coexist with wisdom. And that staying true to ourselves doesn’t require staying blind to the truth.

Because in the end, the heart and the mind aren’t enemies. They’re partners. And when they work together, we find a strength that’s not just soft—but unshakable.

 

 

When Work Becomes Life’s Energy

For some people, work is not merely a responsibility—it is as vital as the air they breathe or the food they eat. It doesn’t drain them; it nourishes them. Work becomes a power bank that recharges their spirit, giving them the strength to move forward every single day. They are not “workaholics” driven by compulsion, but rather individuals for whom work holds a deeper, almost spiritual meaning.

Such people possess a rare ability: the art of balance. They can navigate home, career, and personal commitments with remarkable grace, drawing energy not from rest alone but from the very act of contributing, creating, and solving. Their passion, optimism, and dedication make them seem as if they live on a different frequency altogether—one powered by purpose.

Yet here lies the irony: society rarely notices this kind of energy. Constant availability is mistaken for convenience. Unwavering dedication is quietly taken for granted. The very people who give their all are often overlooked. Recognition, when it comes, is scarce.

But true strength lies in how they respond. Instead of slowing down or giving up, they continue to move forward. Why? Because for them, work is not a burden—it is life’s energy. It sustains them, grounds them, and connects them to something larger than themselves.

Positive energy may not always be understood or celebrated, but it carries immense power. And those who embody it don’t need applause to keep going—their fuel comes from within.

“When work is your energy, appreciation is optional—purpose is enough.”

 

Losing Myself, Finding Me Again: How I Gained Back My Confidence

There was a time when I felt like I was moving, but not really living. Caught between responsibilities, expectations, and emotional turmoil, I found myself slowly fading into someone I didn’t recognize. Somewhere along the way, I lost my confidence—and with it, I lost myself.

I kept trying to keep everything together—career, family, emotions—but the more I tried to balance, the more I felt off balance inside. I second-guessed every decision. I stopped trusting my instincts. I was existing in survival mode, and slowly, my self-belief eroded.

One day, I looked in the mirror and saw someone who looked tired—not physically, but mentally and emotionally. That was my wake-up call. I knew I couldn’t go on like this. Something had to shift—and that something was within me.

One day, I looked in the mirror and saw someone who looked tired—not physically, but mentally and emotionally. That was my wake-up call. I knew I couldn’t go on like this. Something had to shift—and that something was within me.

In the thick of confusion and emotional fog, I knew I needed a way to channel my energy—something that would pull me out of my own head. I turned to books, not just for distraction, but for a kind of silent companionship. Pages became my refuge, words became my comfort.

But what really gave me direction again was something I had nearly given up on—my distance PGDM course.

I had enrolled long back, full of ambition, but somewhere during the emotional chaos of life, I stopped believing I could finish it. The deadline to complete the two-year program was June 2025. By April that year, I had almost written it off as a missed opportunity.

And yet, something inside nudged me: Why not give it one last try?

It sounded crazy—even impossible—to complete the course in just three months. But I decided to give it everything I had left in me. I didn’t know if I’d succeed. I just knew I had to try—not to prove anything to the world, but to myself.

That decision changed something in me. For the first time in a long time, I felt the flicker of drive return. That flicker became fuel. The more I studied, the more I started believing in myself again.

A Reminder of Simpler Days—But This Time, It Was Different

As I opened my books again, a wave of nostalgia hit me. It reminded me of my school and college days—when life was so beautifully simple. Study, eat, play, sleep. That rhythm had its own joy. The only worry back then was finishing homework or preparing for an exam. Life had space to breathe.

But this time, things weren’t so easy.

Now, the rhythm was replaced by a relentless juggle—home, office, and study. The responsibilities were heavier, the hours shorter, and the pressure silent but intense.

Studying after a full day of work wasn’t romantic or inspiring—it was exhausting. I became a night owl not by choice, but by necessity. Late nights were for study, and weekends were booked for exams. There was no pause, no shortcuts, no time to think twice.

It was a nutcracker—physically and mentally.

But somewhere in that struggle, I started building discipline again. I wasn’t just reading books—I was rebuilding myself. Every chapter completed, every test given, was a step toward gaining my confidence back. Not because I was perfect, but because I was trying. Because I was showing up for myself.

This Time, I Did It for Me

One thing I’ve always struggled with is showing up for myself. I’ve always been the kind of person who shows up for others—for family, for work, for responsibilities—but when it came to doing something just for me, I often found excuses or let it slip through the cracks.

But this time was different.

This time, I took up the challenge purely for my own good. Not to prove a point, not to meet anyone else’s expectations—but because I wanted to remind myself of what I was capable of. And I learned something powerful in the process:

If you really want to do something, you’ll always find time for it.

I carved out hours from nowhere. I studied after work, I sacrificed my weekends, I fought through tiredness and doubt. And slowly, that consistent effort became a quiet kind of strength.

I’m proud to share that not only did I manage to complete the course—but I did it with distinction.

It wasn’t just an academic achievement. It was personal redemption. It reminded me that I still had it in me. That I wasn’t lost. I had just stopped believing in myself for a while.

Finding Myself Again—But Not Alone

While this journey has been one of self-discovery and inner rebuilding, I know for a fact that I couldn’t have done it alone.

My family and friends stood by me in ways I can never truly put into words. They believed in me during moments when I couldn't believe in myself. They reminded me of my worth when I had forgotten it. Their quiet encouragement, their patience, and their unwavering faith in me became the foundation I stood on while I rebuilt my confidence.

Their support wasn’t loud—but it was always there. Steady. Constant. And sometimes, that’s all you need to find your way back to yourself.

There will still be tough days—I know that.

But somewhere deep down, I also know that when those days come, I won’t crumble. Because the strength I’ve built over these past few months isn't temporary—it’s mine now. Quiet. Solid. Earned.

And no matter what lies ahead, I know this: I will rise again.

“Be true to yourself. Don't change because people want you to change."

— A reminder I carry with me now, every day.