Germany in My Heart: A Country I’ve Never Visited but Deeply Feel Connected To

  

There is a place I have never stepped into physically, yet it lives vividly in my imagination — Germany. My connection to this country began long before I consciously realised it. It started with my grandfather’s words, spoken casually yet filled with conviction: “One day, you will visit Germany.” That single sentence somehow planted a quiet seed of longing in me. Over the years, that seed grew into a genuine fondness, almost an emotional bond.

Among the many European countries, Germany has always stood out for me. My reading marathon with Goethe–Max Müller Bhavan in 2012 was a turning point. It opened a door to a world I had only glimpsed before. Through their books, magazines, and videos, I discovered the unique character of the German states, the rich cultural traditions, the academic depth, the precision in their daily life, and the warmth of their festivals. It wasn’t just information — it felt like an invitation into another way of living.

The more I read, the more Germany stopped being a faraway place on a map and slowly became a familiar presence. I found myself imagining the tidy streets, the efficient public transport, the Christmas markets glowing with lights, and the quiet beauty of the countryside dotted with timber houses. Even the German language — sharp, rhythmic, and expressive — became something I felt instinctively drawn to.

Yet my sense of connection didn’t grow from books alone. It deepened through people. Our family friend Suganya, who lives in Germany, often shares stories about her life there — the discipline, the greenery, the community warmth, and the everyday charm of the cities she has made her home. My cousins — Archit, Dhivya & Mukesh, and Rajalakshmi — also speak about their experiences, weaving tales of both comfort and discovery. Their words created a bridge between my imagination and reality. Through them, Germany began to feel less like a foreign land and more like a place waiting for me — patiently and quietly.

Perhaps it is the blend of these influences — my grandfather’s early blessing, my exposure to German literature and culture, and the lived experiences of people close to me — that has created this deep, unshakeable connection. I may not have walked on German soil yet, but a part of me feels as if it already belongs there. And maybe, one day, life will fulfil the prophecy my grandfather set in motion, and I will finally step into the country that has lived in my heart for so long.

Where My Heart Returns: Five Things I Love About My Childhood Home

     

 

Everyone has a place that feels like a warm hug—comforting, familiar, and irreplaceable. For me, that place is my childhood home in my hometown. It is not just a building but a treasure chest of stories, traditions, and unforgettable moments. Every visit brings back waves of nostalgia. Here are the five things I cherish the most about it.

 

1. The Beloved Entrance Steps

The first five steps leading into our home are more than just an entrance—they are a symbol of togetherness. Every night after dinner, these steps transformed into our family’s meeting spot. We would sit there, talking about our day, teasing each other, and laughing freely.
Our cousins from the neighbouring houses would join us, turning those simple stone steps into a lively gathering place. Even today, whenever I return home, I pause and admire them—knowing how many memories they continue to hold.

 

2. The Heartwarming Kitchen

The kitchen in our ancestral home has always been the centre of activity and affection. My mother cooked with love, paying attention to everyone’s likes and dislikes. Festivals were incomplete without her homemade sweets, snacks, papads, and pickles—prepared in large batches and shared with relatives.
From my grand aunts and grandfather to my father and mother, multiple generations perfected their culinary skills in that very space. I too have tried my hand in that kitchen, learning more than just cooking—learning care, patience, and tradition.

 

3. The Open Terrace of Joy

Our terrace was a magical place filled with sunshine, laughter, and life. My brothers treated it as their cricket ground, while my mother used it to dry papads, clothes, and festival items.
Summer nights were the best—when we spread mats and slept under the starry sky, letting the cool breeze soothe us. It was also where we studied, read books, and celebrated Kaanum Pongal with rituals and fun. The terrace was freedom, childhood, and celebration all rolled into one.

 

4. The Old Backyard Well

Tucked behind the house stood a large, reliable well that quenched the thirst of many family gatherings and festivals. The water was cool, fresh, and delicious. Beside it lay a stone slab where clothes were washed or water was stored in large vessels.
Visitors loved testing their strength by drawing water from the well. Though it has now dried and been closed, its memory remains pure—just like the water it once held.

 

5. The Room I Shared With My Sister

On the first floor was a cozy room my sister and I shared, accessible by a charming wooden staircase from the hall. Despite its small size, it felt like our own little world.
With two cots and bookshelves lining the walls, it was a room full of conversations, books, dreams, and late-night whispers. We read, wrote, argued, laughed, and imagined our futures in that space. It shaped our bond and gave us countless memories that still make me smile.

When Dreams Deliver Books: The Last Dream I Remember

     

 

 

 

I rarely remember my dreams. Most mornings, they dissolve the moment I open my eyes, leaving only a vague feeling behind. Yet once in a while, a dream imprints itself so clearly that it follows me through the day. The last dream I vividly recall was of receiving a parcel of books as a gift—beautifully wrapped, unexpectedly delivered, and filled with titles I had long wished to read.

Looking back, the dream wasn’t entirely surprising. That evening, I had been scrolling through my wishlist, thinking about the books I hoped to buy soon. Add to that the number of book-giveaway contests flooding my social media feed, and it’s no wonder my mind wove those experiences into a single, delightful image of opening a parcel full of books.

But dreams involving books often carry deeper symbolism. Books represent imagination, curiosity, escape, and inner growth. To receive them as a gift is to be seen, understood, and cherished—because books are the most personal gifts of all. They reflect taste, thought, and affection.

Literature has long celebrated this love for books. Ray Bradbury famously called them “portable magic,” and that magic doubles when the book comes wrapped as a surprise. In Little Women, Jo March receives books that feed her ambition. Roald Dahl’s Matilda treats books as precious gifts that empower a child surrounded by chaos. Even Jhumpa Lahiri, in The Namesake, uses book-gifting as a quiet expression of love, identity, and connection.

Tagore, too, often described books as soulful companions—gifts that stay long after the occasion passes.

Perhaps my dream carried the same sentiment. It wasn’t just about parcels or presents; it was about the joy of discovering new worlds and the hope that one day such a surprise may turn real. Because books have that power—they arrive with possibilities, even in our dreams.

A Five-Year Journey of Growth: My Personal Bucket List of Skills, Serenity, and Service

    

When I imagine the next five years of my life, I don’t think of grand destinations or extraordinary adventures. Instead, I picture a journey filled with meaningful learning, inner calm, and everyday growth. This is my bucket list—simple, soulful, and deeply personal.

1. Becoming Conversational in Four Beautiful Languages

Languages open doors to people, culture, and connection. In the coming years, I hope to learn to speak Bengali, Malayalam, Kannada, and Urdu with confidence. I know reading and writing may demand more time, but conversational fluency itself is a satisfying goal. To greet someone in their native tongue, to understand their stories, and to respond with ease—that is the experience I look forward to most.

2. Playing Short Keerthanais on the Veena

The veena has a divine presence in my life, and I want to deepen this bond. My aim is to be able to play short and simple keerthanais with grace, while strengthening my brain–eye–hand coordination through steady practice. Even a few minutes of soulful music each day can transform the mood, the mind, and the home.

3. Reciting Poetry in English, Tamil, and Sanskrit

Poetry allows us to touch emotions that everyday words cannot. Over the next few years, I hope to learn and recite poems across English, Tamil, and Sanskrit—three languages that offer different rhythms and strengths. English brings imagery, Tamil brings warmth, and Sanskrit brings spiritual depth. Reciting these poems will be an artistic and meditative experience.

4. Cultivating a Calm, Cool, and Relaxed Persona

More than productivity or accomplishment, I want to embrace a softer, calmer version of myself.
This includes:

Regular prayers to anchor my thoughts

Daily exercise to energize my body

Listening to or practicing music to soothe my mind

With each of these habits, I hope to grow into someone who responds gently, stays composed, and moves through life with ease.

5. Prioritizing Health and Extending Help to Others

Good health is a quiet blessing, and in the next five years, I want to honour it fully—through mindful eating, rest, movement, and timely medical care. Equally important is my desire to help those who need support, whether through time, guidance, or presence. Being useful to someone else is one of the most meaningful experiences.

6. Beginning Every Day with Gratitude

Above all, I want gratitude to guide my mornings and shape my thoughts. A simple moment of reflection—acknowledging what I have and who I am—can transform how the entire day unfolds. Gratitude fills life with quiet joy and gentle purpose.

  

If I Could Time Travel: A Heartfelt Conversation With My Childhood Self

  

 

If I ever got the chance to time travel and meet the little version of myself, I know exactly what we would talk about—two innocent yet intense obsessions that ruled my childhood: becoming fair and growing long, beautiful hair. Today they make me laugh, but back then they felt painfully serious.

The Fairness Obsession: A Red Brick and a Child’s Innocence

I grew up with a darker complexion compared to many of my fair-skinned aunties. Naturally, the little me wondered why I didn’t look like them. Once, in pure innocence, I asked one of my aunties how I could become fair like her. In a joking, playful tone she replied,
“Just use red brick instead of soap—you’ll turn fair!”

She was teasing, but I believed her with all my heart. I even cried and insisted that my mother rub sengal (red brick) on me so I could magically become fair. Looking back, the memory is both foolish and adorable—a perfect glimpse into childhood innocence.

If I could meet that younger version of myself, I would gently tell her:
“You don’t need to change your skin. True beauty shines from within—from your kindness, your thoughts, your heart.”

The Long-Hair Dream: Chowri, Kunjalam, and Childhood Fantasies

In South India of the 80s, long braids were a timeless beauty symbol. Women proudly flaunted thick plaits tied neatly with kunjalam or kuchu. Those with thin or short hair used chowri—false hair—to enhance length and thickness.

But I had a short bob cut. Maintenance and cooperation were not my strengths, so my parents wisely chose what worked. Yet, inside, I longed for a long braid that reached my waist.

Every time my grand-aunt visited, I begged her to fix a chowri to my tiny plait. The moment it was done, I would parade around the neighbourhood, swaying my borrowed long braid like a proud heroine. I truly believed I looked magical.

Today, my hair remains medium to short, curly, dry, frizzy, sprinkled with friendly greys. I manage it with clips and confidence. Long or short, it's mine—and I embrace it as it is.

If I could talk to my young self, I would tell her:
“Your hair doesn’t define your beauty. You’re beautiful whether your braid is long, short, or completely imperfect.”

What Time Travel Teaches Me About Self-Acceptance

Those childhood obsessions now seem silly, even funny. But they were genuine feelings from a little girl who didn’t yet understand the world.

Today I know this truth:
Beauty is not in fairness. Beauty is not in hair length. Beauty is in authenticity—being confidently and completely yourself.

If time travel were possible, I would gift my younger self the wisdom to love herself just as she is. But since it isn’t, I give that reminder to myself today… and to anyone who might need it.

Be proud of who you are—inside and out.

A Day Wrapped in Rain: When the Weather Tests Your Patience

    

 

Some days don’t have a dramatic story, yet they still leave us feeling dissatisfied. Today was one of those days — a reminder of how the weather, especially during a cyclone, can take over every part of life. With Cyclone Ditwah hovering over Chennai, the entire day felt wrapped in rain and restlessness.

The sky remained stubbornly grey right from the morning. Thick clouds gathered like a blanket, blocking every hint of sunlight. There was no brightness, no warmth — only a dull heaviness that made even noon look like early evening. The rain, driven by Ditwah’s outer bands, fell continuously, sometimes soft, sometimes fierce, but never really stopping.

Cold winds pushed through every gap, making it impossible to keep doors or windows open. The entire house stayed shut, not out of choice but because the cyclone made it necessary. Even the simplest routines became unexpectedly complicated. Clothes refused to dry — a common Chennai struggle during cyclones. I ended up tying an extra clothline in the balcony, and now rows of damp clothes hang stubbornly, swaying in the chilly gusts yet drying nowhere close to completion.

Technology didn’t help either. The DTH signal behaved just like the weather — unpredictable. The TV flickered on and off, as if the satellite itself was tired of the downpour. Power fluctuations and unstable signals only added to the frustration.

Nothing disastrous happened, yet these small inconveniences piled up silently. The gloom outside slowly seeped indoors, affecting the pace, mood, and even the energy of the day. Cyclone Ditwah didn’t bring chaos to my doorstep, but it did bring a long list of little disturbances — the kind that test your patience without announcing themselves loudly.

But like every cyclone, this too will pass. And when the clouds finally part and a ray of sunlight returns, even a normal day will feel like a small blessing.

The Everyday Blessings We Overlook: A Reflection on True Gratitude

    

When we talk about gratitude, our minds often travel to big milestones, joyful events, or special memories. But the true essence of gratitude lies in noticing the things we usually overlook—the quiet blessings that support our everyday life without demanding our attention. At the very foundation of this gratitude are food, clothing, and shelter. These basics seem so ordinary that we forget they are not guaranteed for everyone. Every meal on the plate, every comfortable outfit we wear, and the roof that protects us from heat, rain, and uncertainty—these are the first gifts we should bow our heads in thanks for.

After these essentials come the precious pillars of our life: family, education, money, and work.
Family gives us love, grounding, and moral strength. Their presence—whether near or far—forms the emotional backbone of our lives.
Education, something many of us take for granted, is a lifelong companion that opens doors, builds confidence, and shapes how we think and live.
Money and a stable job, though often part of our daily stress, are blessings we must recognise—they empower us to care for ourselves, support others, and lead dignified lives.

And then there are the more subtle yet powerful blessings: our inherent qualities.
The patience you possess, the kindness you offer, the resilience you didn’t know you had, the ability to learn, adapt, and appreciate—these are gifts woven into us. Often, we don’t realise their value until life tests us. These qualities, shaped by experience and grace, guide us quietly every single day.

Above all, we must remember the blessings God has showered on us—those little nudges, protections, and opportunities that arrive at the right moment, often without our awareness. When we pause and look back, we see how each blessing, small or big, has helped us move forward.

Gratitude is not just a feeling; it’s a practice.
A habit of counting what we have instead of what we lack.
A gentle reminder that even in ordinary days, life is filled with extraordinary gifts.

So let us always count our blessings—visible and invisible—and carry gratitude as a constant companion.

A Gentle Day of Recovery: Small Surprises, Comforting Routines, and Healing at Home

     

Some days quietly remind us how healing isn’t always dramatic—sometimes it comes in soft steps, small surprises, and ordinary routines gently returning. Today was one such day for me, a day that felt like a slow exhale after a demanding week.

For the past several days, I had been hospitalised with fever and an infection—seven days of IV antibiotics, the constant tug of a cannula, and the restless discomfort that comes with being unwell. Coming back home gave me not just rest, but a kind of peace that only familiar walls can offer. Last night, I slept deeply for the first time in days, and this morning began with a sense of lightness I’d been missing.

Breakfast was simple and soothing—soft idlies. But what made it special was the unexpected gesture: my father bought them for me, a small surprise that set a warm tone for the day. Amma, in her usual thoughtful way, sent my favourite sweets, hoping they would tempt my recovering appetite. And they did. For the first time in days, I could eat with my own hands, a small milestone but one that felt surprisingly emotional. The swelling from the cannula had eased, my fingers moved without pain, and that alone made me feel more like myself again.

With a little more strength today, I caught up on the newspapers stacked from last week—pages filled with headlines I had missed in the haze of illness. I also managed to step out briefly and buy vegetables for the week, a task that felt almost celebratory simply because I could do it again. I straightened up the house bit by bit, though I left the laundry aside; Chennai’s rains are unpredictable, and I decided to wait till the skies calm down.

The quiet part of my evening was spent reading a few blogs, flipping through my diary, and updating the entries I had missed. It felt grounding—like gathering the loose threads of the past week and gently stitching them back together.

Today wasn’t extraordinary. But it was healing.
It was comforting.
And most of all, it reminded me how recovery is made up of simple routines returning, one tender moment at a time.

10 THINGS I'll PACK FOR MY DREAM VACATION

    

My dream vacation would take me on a soulful journey — beginning in Kashmir, the paradise on earth, moving on to IIT Roorkee, Asia’s first and one of India’s most prestigious institutions, visiting Ruskin Bond in Dehradun, and concluding with a spiritual stop at Ayodhya, offering prayers to the Lord. For such a memorable trip, here’s what I’d carefully pack and why:

Mobile with a First-Class Camera or a Top-Brand Camera
Every bend in Kashmir’s valleys, every snow-draped pine, and every historic landmark at Roorkee deserves to be captured. A high-quality camera would help preserve these visuals — not just as pictures, but as timeless memories.

Books from My Ruskin Bond Collection
Visiting Dehradun and meeting Ruskin Bond is a dream for any reader. Carrying my own collection of his books would allow me to get his autograph and perhaps even exchange a few words about his stories that shaped my childhood imagination.

My Journal and a Set of Pens
I never travel without my journal. It’s where I jot down plans, reflections, expenses, and moments I don’t want to forget. Writing as I travel keeps my experiences alive long after the journey ends.

Warm Clothes
Kashmir and Dehradun can be chilly, especially in the evenings. Layered woollens, scarves, and gloves would make sure the cold doesn’t steal the joy of exploration. Comfort and warmth are travel essentials.

Medicines
A small pouch with regular medication and basic first-aid is a must. Travel brings excitement, but also unpredictability, so being prepared ensures the trip remains worry-free.

Some Snacks – Especially Homemade South Indian Treats
There’s something comforting about carrying a bit of home on the road. Murukku, thattai, or mixture can be the perfect travel snacks when hunger strikes or when local food feels unfamiliar.

Clothes Suitable for Each Destination
From woollens in Kashmir to comfortable cottons in Ayodhya, it’s important to dress according to the region and weather. Packing thoughtfully helps blend practicality with style.

Paper Cuttings, Tickets, and Travel Documents
A file or folder with all necessary papers — tickets, permission letters, travel vouchers, and special requirement notes — ensures a smooth journey without last-minute hassles.

Torch and Candles
These small yet significant items are always handy. Whether for power outages or late-night walks in quiet areas, they add an extra layer of preparedness and safety.

Cash in Various Denominations and Debit Cards
While digital payments are convenient, small towns and temple areas often prefer cash. I’d carry cash in different denominations, along with cards, plus a few extra bags for shopping, souvenirs, and laundry.

 

IF MY JOURNAL COULD SPEAK

      

If my journal could talk back, I think it would smile and say, “You are one disciplined soul!”
As someone who uses both a diary and a planner, I write down almost everything — from tasks I must not forget to timelines and daily schedules. My entries would reveal a person who believes in order, clarity, and completion. The journal would appreciate the way I make my to-do lists, note down every responsibility, and try to complete each one in an orderly manner — even though I sometimes miss a few days because of health demands or much-needed rest.

It might gently suggest that I allow myself a little more relaxation, to breathe amidst the busyness, while still keeping up with the structure I love.

My journal isn’t just mine alone; it carries reminders and notes for my entire family — from doctor’s appointments and household chores to bills, mails, and projects. It’s like the silent coordinator of our home, keeping everyone on track.

If it could speak, I believe it would applaud me for the consistency and care I pour into each page. It would glow with pride, knowing it plays such a vital role in maintaining our household rhythm. Every December — or sometimes in the first week of the new year — I eagerly look forward to buying a new diary. It’s more than a book of pages; it’s a trusted companion that keeps life in order. Truly, my diary is the best thing I rely on, always beside me.

Through my journaling experience, I’ve learned that discipline brings structure, but balance brings peace. Write down your plans, but also leave space for life to surprise you.

A JOYFUL NAVRATRI FRIDAY WITH MY SIBLING

 

 

What brought me joy today was spending Navratri Friday with my sibling. The day began with many plans. While going to the office, my younger brother dropped me off at my sister's place. We visited temples together, had heartfelt conversations, and enjoyed a wonderful lunch at a nearby restaurant. She thoughtfully hosted the entire outing, from the Ola ride to the meal, making me feel truly cared for. The sweetest surprise was when she gifted me a cute pink bag with a dreamy unicorn design, almost like a cloud-nine angel. It wasn’t just the bag, but the love behind it that filled my day with joy.

LOOKING UP: A WINDOW TO LIGHT AND MEMORY

   

When I tilt my head back in our 100-year-old townhouse, the first thing I see is something that would puzzle most children of today—yet it has been part of my world for as long as I can remember. It isn’t a lamp, nor a skylight in the modern sense, but a little square of glass embedded right into the terrace.

Picture this, my dear Alpha: a neat square of thick glass, framed by rough cement, set slightly higher than the flat roof around it. In the middle of the day, the sun finds this square and pours its brightness through, spilling golden light right into the heart of our living room. No switches, no wires—just nature lending its glow.

At night, if luck is on our side, we catch sight of the moon slipping through that same pane, its silver light brushing across our walls. Imagine the surprise of sitting in a dim room and suddenly spotting the moon’s face framed in glass above you, like a secret visitor.

This square is not just a practical invention—it is a storyteller of its own. It speaks of a time when houses breathed through open spaces, when ventilation and light were crafted thoughtfully, not plugged in. For me, it is a reminder that even simple designs can connect us to the rhythms of the sky.

So, Alpha, next time you look up from wherever you are, I want you to imagine this piece of glass in our old house—a quiet square of light that has watched generations before you and now waits to watch yours.

LIFE LESSONS FROM A SIMPLE GIFT : A PINEAPPLE WATER BOTTLE MEMORY

   

A memory I haven’t revisited in a while is from my high school days, when my cousin from Delhi sent me a gift with his first salary—a water bottle shaped like a pineapple and a writing pad. The bottle was unlike anything I had ever seen: a bright red body with a green cap shaped like the crown of a pineapple. At a time when most bottles were plain, cylindrical, and stamped with simple images, this playful, fruit-shaped one felt rare and special. I proudly carried it to school and loved the way my friends admired it.

The writing pad too was different. Though it was of normal size, the clip that held the papers was of a new design, unlike the regular ones. It felt stylish and modern, and I treasured it just as much as the bottle.

I still remember the joy and surprise when my uncle handed me the gift, saying it was from my cousin. The happiness of receiving something so unique was boundless, and the memory of that moment still warms me. Growing up, my parents always reminded me to be thankful for every gift, no matter how small, and to care for it with respect.

Looking back, I realize those gifts were more than just a water bottle and a writing pad—they were lessons in gratitude, care, and thoughtfulness. They taught me that even the simplest gestures carry deep meaning when given with love, and that joy is found not in the size of the gift but in the sentiment behind it. By cherishing and safeguarding them, I learned to value relationships, nurture memories, and hold on to the kindness that makes life truly memorable.

 

THE THINGS THAT MAKE ME ANGRY

    

Anger is one of those emotions we all experience, though the triggers differ from person to person. For me, I usually try to stay calm and composed, but there are a few situations that instantly stir up my temper.

The first one is turning up late to a scheduled meeting—whether it is personal or professional. Time, to me, is a form of respect. When I plan and arrive on time, I expect the same courtesy in return. A delay without reason often feels as though the other person doesn’t value my time or effort, and that really frustrates me.

Another thing that bothers me deeply is when someone makes a mistake but refuses to accept it. We are all human; mistakes happen. But what matters is the willingness to own up to them. Denial or shifting blame not only makes the situation worse but also erodes trust. I find myself angrier at the refusal to take responsibility than at the mistake itself.

And finally, I cannot stand it when people lie while pretending to be truthful or fail to stand by their words. Honesty and integrity are values I hold close, so when someone pretends, twists the truth, or breaks their word, it feels like betrayal. Such behavior leaves a lasting mark, and it is hard for me to overlook.

In a way, these triggers all circle back to one central theme: respect—for time, for truth, and for responsibility. When these are compromised, anger is a natural response. But reflecting on them also reminds me that while I cannot control others’ behavior, I can always choose how I respond and how long I hold on to that anger.

MY TOP FIVE STRENGTHS AND HOW THEY SHAPE MY LIFE

     

                                          

We all carry a unique set of values and habits that guide our choices and interactions. Over time, I've come to understand and embrace five strengths that not only define who I am, but also help me live with purpose, balance, and integrity. Here's a closer look at them—and how they continue to empower me every day.

 

1. Honesty: My Unshakable Foundation

I don't lie. It might sound simple, but in a world where truth can be easily bent, choosing honesty consistently is a conscious act of courage and self-respect. This trait helps me build trust—whether in family, friendships, or work. I can face any situation with clarity and confidence because I know I’ve spoken and acted truthfully. It brings peace of mind, both to myself and to those around me.

 

2. Financial Discipline: Spending with Intention

I'm not a compulsive shopper. I don’t chase trends or get caught up in impulsive spending. I believe in budgeting and living within my means. This discipline allows me the freedom to plan ahead and avoid financial stress. Whether it's saving for a future goal or accommodating unexpected expenses, being financially conscious brings stability to my life and home.

 

3. Respect for Time and Planning: Making Every Moment Count

Time is a resource we can't regain, which is why I prioritize planning and managing it well. These aren’t just tools for productivity—they’re ways to show respect for myself and others. Being organized helps me balance responsibilities, prevent last-minute stress, and focus on what matters most. It allows me to honor commitments without feeling overwhelmed.

 

4. Love and Care for Family: My Inner Compass

My family is my anchor. Loving and caring for them isn’t just a responsibility—it’s a joy and a source of strength. Their well-being motivates me to keep growing, stay grounded, and be mindful of how my actions affect others. This deep sense of connection keeps my values in check and helps me navigate life with empathy and purpose.

 

5. Integrity in Handling Money: Trust Above All

When it comes to money—whether mine or someone else's—I’m conscientious and respectful. I understand that money matters carry emotional and practical weight, and I never take that lightly. This integrity helps build lasting trust and reassures those around me that I’m dependable and fair.

 

Conclusion: My Habits, My Power

Good habits and manners are not just about appearances—they’re about intention. These strengths, cultivated over time, serve as my compass. They guide my decisions, shape my relationships, and help me face life with calm confidence. I may not be perfect, but I take pride in the values I live by—and they remain my greatest strengths.

     

A LETTER TO RUSTY

   

Dear Rusty,

The days here are rainy and mild, with clouds gently rolling in like old friends. The hills, I imagine, must be humming their own quiet song in Dehra. There’s something about this weather that reminds me of the ripple effect you often speak of — the way kindness travels, quietly but surely. Lately, I’ve begun to see it not just as an idea, but in action, shaping little moments around me.

You always say, Rusty, that we must hope for the best — and I hold on to that thought now more than ever. I believe that hope, when nurtured, grows into meaningful change. And with steady focus on the positive and a silent prayer, I trust we’re being guided in the right direction, towards outcomes we may not yet see, but surely await.

I’ve been rereading “The Room on the Roof”, and it takes me back to your youthful wanderings — the monsoon rains, the friendships, the search for freedom and belonging. And just the other day, I came across “Rusty and the Leopard”. That story reminded me how even wild, unpredictable encounters — like yours with the leopard — can be strangely tender and transformative, much like life itself.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve dreamt of visiting Dehra — to walk those rain-washed streets, listen to the wind through the trees, and feel that quiet, comforting sense of belonging you often write about. It’s a place that lives in your stories and has quietly taken root in my imagination. I hope one day, I’ll find myself there — maybe even under the same skies you once looked up at.

Do write to me whenever you find time. And please, share more about Dehra — the trees, the breeze, the old bookshops and bazaars, the familiar lanes and silent corners. I’d love to walk through your world again, even if only through your words.

With warmth and hope,
ASN

THE MANY THINGS THAT MAKE ME SMILE

    

When our loved ones are happy, their faces shine—and when we look into their eyes, we can’t help but smile. It's a natural response, just like the gentle smile that forms when we receive good news. That moment of happiness and satisfaction is often followed by a quiet thank-you to God.

Even with strangers, the first thing we offer is a smile. Sometimes it’s the only exchange—a glance and a smile, maybe even the beginning of a bond.

I smile when I see bookshops or street vendors selling books. Flowers bring a smile to my face and brighten my day. A cheerful WhatsApp greeting or a joke makes me smile. The chirping of birds often makes me look around to spot them, smiling at their simple joy.

When I see someone dressed elegantly, I smile at them and silently wish them a wonderful day. A bright, clear sky makes me smile in appreciation. While reading, if a sentence or a special phrase touches me, I smile at its brilliance. Compliments make me smile gently. When I visit someone’s home and find it impressively clean, beautifully arranged, or tastefully decorated, I admire it with a smile. If someone’s response impresses me, it also earns a smile.

Many small, sweet things bring a smile to my face: greeting cards, old letters, photographs, balloons, butterflies, ice creams, stuffed toys, showpieces, books, bags, bindis, bangles, clips, sarees, chappals, bedspreads, cushions, curtains, chandeliers, wind chimes, earrings, cute babies, gardens, pleasant breezes, light rain, tasty food—and, of course, my treasured toy collection.

Smiles come easily with such everyday joys. And in these simple smiles lie the quiet beauty of life.