Pahadi Narratives

It feels like an ocean. Or maybe it is. Sometimes I feel this strange urge to just pour everything out—to give, to share, to let whatever is inside me flow outward. And strangely, it feels good. Maybe because I love the smiles I see when I give something of myself away. There is a certain vibe some people carry. You can feel it without touching them. A kind of vibration across the outer line of your body. A sensation that makes you aware of their presence before they have even said much. Sometimes there isn't a hand on your skin, yet somehow your skin knows. What is that? A frequency? An energy? Something our bodies understand before our minds can put words to it? Why does the heart beat faster? Why do some people make the air around them feel different? I have so many questions. I wonder about people who seem to come from love—from art, from creativity, from this almost effortless desire to express something beautiful into the world. What drives them? Where does that come from? Wh...

   There are connections that transcend explanation — bonds that go beyond romance, beyond circumstance, beyond the limitations of this lifetime. This is the story of such a bond: a force that was never meant to fit into the world’s boxes, yet forever changed the course of my soul. --- When Two Souls See Each Other in a World of Silence Growing up, in a place and time where certain truths were unspoken, I found her — a soul who saw me, truly saw me, in a way no one else could. She was bold, fiery, and unapologetically herself — an Aries with a spark that ignited my own hidden fire. Without words or permission, she helped me awaken the truest parts of myself. In a world that demanded silence, she never rejected me. She simply held space for my truth, my hand, my heart and my authentic self in her own way. And that simple act became a sacred revolution. --- Echoes of Past Lifetimes: Mirrors of the Soul Our souls have danced together across lifetimes, sometimes as companions, som...

You never know what you dislike,   Until you find what feels just right.   Most of us drift through life on autopilot,   Chasing checklists, stuck in the quiet.   Growing up first came the schools and annual tests, then the race—   Entrance exams set the pace.   Next, came a job, a title, a band and a promotion ladder to climb,   A race against an invisible time.   Then comes the script that all must read,   Marriage, children—society’s creed.   But in this rush, this endless chase,   Did you ever pause to find your place???   I lived half of my life, by choices not my own,   A puppet to the norms I’d known.   Trained to listen, obey, comply,   Never once stopping to question why?? But then, one day, a thought arose,   While driving to work, lost in mind’s echoes.   "Will I ever love the way I choose??  Will I ever...

  Another day, another high, Excited to share, with a sparkle in my eye. Told my mother, "I finally wrote, Published my thoughts and feelings, let them float." But the first question that came my way— "Is it private, or can the world see what you say?" My heart, so eager, sank a bit, Shattered in silence, piece by bit. It wasn’t the first time, and I know it won’t be the last, As this cycle has always repeated, exact same way in the past. Like that day I wore a dress so bold, Felt radiant, fierce, fearless, whole. Showed it to her, hoping she’d see, The confidence, the joy it sparked in me. But all she said, without delight, "Just don’t post it on the Facebook for the world’s sight." Yet I DID!!!— made it my pride, A profile picture, no need to hide.   Then came Diwali, the festival of light, I longed for home, for warmth so bright. But instead, I heard a whispered fear— " You're divorced … what will people say and utter? "...

Here comes March again, a familiar ghost. Children bubbling with joy, hearts on fire, Excited for the colors that bring life anew, Ready with water guns, their aim so true. They’ve packed the brightest hues, And the sweetest 'gujiyas' to amuse. Excited for that strong splash, A color that clings, a lasting flash. It was a flex to show, How much color you could throw. Festivals leave memories behind, Some sweet, some a little more confined. One child in the corner, a prayer on his lips, Hoping this Holi won’t be lost in tips, Wishing that the drinks won’t drown the day, And take the colors of joy away. Worry for that father, stumbling near, Drowning his pain with every beer. Those faces you can’t recognize anymore, Filled with colors, eyes bloodshot, hearts sore. They’re searching for someone who left home, Waiting, hoping, feeling alone. The fun fades, the spirit dimmed, All that’s left is an alco-holi hymn. Will there be another Holi washed by drinks, Or will we rise above, a...

  Ever tried to pinpoint the exact moment? The moment something inside you changed? Was it in 7th grade, or maybe the 8th? A feeling unfamiliar, yet strangely engraved? I smelled a scent—a perfume— While standing in the morning prayer line, Eyes closed, hands folded tight, Right before attendance time. That fragrance lingered, always near— Was it then? Or was it later, when we had a substitute teacher? She asked us to lay our heads down on the desk, Then she stroked my hair—soft, light, tender caress. I loved it, though! Soon, Biology became my favorite class, Praised by teachers, but for one, I worked twice as hard. Her voice, her words, a melody so divine, “Oh, look at that handwriting!” she said, As if I’d etched poetry, instead of answers which filled up exam sheet lines. She loved my silky-soft hair, Laughed once, claiming she’d ride with me on my bike if she dared. Another day, she told me she loved me in red and white, Which, coincidentally, was my sports house’s pride. Satu...