Everyday, Again

Every morning, my alarm rings at 5:45 a.m.
Monday to Friday. Without negotiation.

And just like that, the day begins.

A familiar sequence unfolds — the walk, the newspaper, breakfast, work, lunch, more work, dinner, a little television, sleep. Alarm. Again. Life hums along in a rhythm so predictable that we barely notice it anymore.

The weekend arrives like a soft breeze — light, liberating, promising freedom. And just as quietly, it slips away. By Sunday evening, Monday is already knocking, carrying with it structure, responsibility, and the weight of having to show up again.

Days blur into weeks, weeks into months, months into years. And somewhere in this steady flow, life keeps moving — leaving us caught between who we want to be and who we must be.

And what do we long for?

The spark of something new. Unplanned trips. Impulsive decisions. Late-night laughter and midnight malts. A life led by desire rather than duty. A life where mornings feel like paintings and evenings read like poetry.

And in this hopeful pursuit of the extraordinary, we dismiss the life we already have. We call it ordinary. Boring. Routine. We grow impatient, irritable, restless — convinced that our real life is waiting somewhere else.

Routine, after all, isn’t glamorous. It looks like the same breakfast, the same walk, the same conversations. It feels unremarkable — as if life is on a continuous repeat.

And yet…

Why is it that we ache for routine precisely when it disappears?

A few days away from home, and we begin to miss our 6:30 a.m. cup of tea. That quiet, focused hour of work. The comfort of an early night. Even the most beautiful destinations slowly lose their charm. And after retirement, many of us find ourselves longing for the days when there was no time to think at all — when life moved us forward without asking too many questions.

So what is routine really giving us, that we only understand once it’s gone?

I found my answer looking out from a hospital window.

Outside, life was unfolding as usual. People rushing to work, arguing into their phones, buying fruits, laughing, hurrying somewhere important. In their utterly unremarkable busyness was an unexpected comfort: the quiet assurance that all was well. That their lives were moving as they should — without alarm, without worry, without urgency.

And that’s when it struck me.

Routine is not monotony.
It is evidence that things are fundamentally okay.

It means the world is not on fire.
Children are healthy. Parents are well. Relationships are steady. Life is quietly holding together.

Routine doesn’t just organize our days. It anchors us. It gives us direction. It gives us the space to plan, to hope, to dream — and to build anything meaningful: a career, a relationship, a life. It isn’t stagnation; it’s movement without panic. Progress without noise.

So the next time you catch yourself thinking, “Nothing special today,” pause. Nothing dramatic is happening. And that — quietly, beautifully — is what makes the day special. It allows us to trust in another tomorrow.

True, routine is simply okay.
And okay, I’ve learned, is a beautiful place to be.

From Nothing to Something

“Gently… gently,” the potter murmurs, as if speaking to the clay itself. My fingers follow his lead — a press here, a soft release there. The wheel spins, the clay rises, and slowly, a tiny pot takes shape. With a loop of string, I cut it free and hold it up, smiling with the quiet wonder of having made something from nothing. Not perfect, not polished — but unmistakably mine.

Creation is like that. You begin with something raw, unformed. You work on it, and with time, it becomes something meaningful.

Creation is in sowing seeds and watching them push through the soil.

In nurturing children as they grow into themselves.

In turning a handful of ingredients into a meal that warms the table.

In arranging a room until it feels like home.

In filling a blank page with words.

In knitting a scarf or painting a canvas.

In growing an idea into a thriving venture.

In building relationships.

In shaping our own dreams into reality.

In each act, something shifts from nothing yet to something now. And no matter how often it happens, it never stops being wondrous.

We humans are, at our core, makers — not just of things, but of possibilities. This is our greatest shared heritage: a restless, hopeful urge to create, improve, and leave behind more than we found.

And we have carried this impulse across millennia. From shaping clay pots to building cities. From planting seeds in the soil to sending seeds into space. From stringing beads into necklaces to stringing satellites across the sky. From inventing the wheel to developing code that will power superintelligence.

And the wonder isn’t in the pot, the meal, or the invention — it’s in us.

I hear my body talk to me ~ A Surya Namaskar conversation

“Finally.” My body remarks sarcastically as I unroll the yoga mat. “Thought you could ignore me forever?”

I sigh. The moment has come – a long overdue reckoning. Years of slouching, scrolling, and slothfully avoiding movement have left my body stiff, shriveled, and simmering with resentment. I pretend not to hear the sarcasm. Instead, I take a deep breath and mentally map out the steps of Surya Namaskar before getting going.

Breathing deeply, I fold my hands in the Prayer Pose. My palms press together, my feet ground into the floor, and I hear my body scoff, “Oh, we are doing this now?”

I inhale, arms rising toward the sky. My shoulders groan. “You’ve been folding inward like a human croissant for years. Unfold us!” The left actually creaks, like an old door hinge in a haunted house. But miraculously, it complies.

And then, the real reckoning begins.

As I exhale and bend forward, my body – after months of deep lethargy – stages a coup. Joints crack. Muscles protest. Hamstrings pull taut. My stomach squishes uncomfortably against my thighs and shrieks, “What fresh hell is this?!”

I reach for my toes, and my body responds with a mocking chuckle. Undeterred, I exhale, relax my upper body, and inch a little closer – until, at last, my fingertips graze my toes. Just as I savor the small victory, my body interrupts with a sharp command: “Next!”

I ease one leg back into Equestrian Pose. My hips—accustomed to sofa life—sulk. My thighs grumble. My fingertips press into the mat as the stretch claws its way up my legs. And my body prods smugly, “Keep going.”

Then comes Plank Pose. My arms shake under the weight of, well, me. My core mutters, half betrayed, half disappointed: “We used to be stronger.” I breathe through it, a silent apology forming in my mind. I’m here now. We’ll fix this. But my body, skeptical and unforgiving, is not buying it.

Though I am not prepared for what happens next.

As I lower myself into Eight-Limbed Pose, my hands betray me – I slip and crash face-first onto the mat. “See what you have done to yourself,” my body jeers. I stay there for a moment, winded, flushed, utterly humiliated. How did I let it get this bad? The question barely forms before my body delivers its smug response: “You know the answer.”

With quiet determination, I push myself back up into the Pose. This time, my body lets out a reluctant sigh. “You’re listening,” it admits grudgingly. “It’s about time.”

The Downward Dog is tough. My calves scream, elbows quiver, and my hamstrings are, I am sure, actively plotting revenge. But there’s something oddly satisfying in all of this. Especially when my body, finally relenting, concedes: “You’re working on me. That’s all I ask.”

As I go through the last few motions of Surya Namaskar, my body doesn’t feel as stiff or accusatory. Instead, it feels hopeful. “Do this regularly,” it says, softer now. “At least thrice a week. And I’ll reward you.”

Finally, back in Pranamasana, hands folded in gratitude, I hear it whisper one last time. “We’re in this together,” it says.

And for once, I listen.

Fully. Completely. With the attention it deserves.

And I know we’ll get there. Slowly. Surely. Together.

I, Me, Myself

Who would have imagined that a week that began with a doctor – who, with the precision of a prosecutor, laid out all the terrible things I’d been doing to my body for decades – could end up being, of all things, rewarding? And yet somehow, after the tidal wave of alarm and self-recrimination had passed, it actually was.

A week of detox at a wellness retreat tucked deep inside the forest in the remote hills of Uttarakhand. Just me and my husband Atul, and seven whole days of hot massages, green juices, and well-meaning strangers reminding us to breathe deeply.

And I have to admit, I can’t quite figure out why we didn’t do this sooner. Really, I can’t. Was it because we were so busy with the usual business of life? Or was it because we’d always thought of holidays as time to see new places, buy shoes, and let the kids have fun? And honestly, wasn’t detox something for other people? You know, the ones with bad knees and high cholesterol? Or… maybe it was because we’d always dismissed these retreats as glorified getaways for people with too much money and not enough sense. Whatever the reason, we were wrong. About everything. Every last thing.

So, finally—after being married for thirty-five years, after raising and marrying off two children, and after spending hours debating and rejecting every possible winter vacation destination on the planet—we did it. And here we were. Finally.

The first thing we noticed was the Quiet. Yes, with a capital Q. The stillness of the dense lush forest seemed to seep into us. It was divine. Sacred. People spoke in hushed tones, their movements slow and deliberate, as if unwilling to disturb nature’s rhythm. It was like stepping into an alternate universe where silence wasn’t just the absence of sound but a presence in its own right. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so utterly, completely at peace.

Life, for once, hit the pause button. And stayed there. The days stretched lazily before us: long walks down winding paths that seemed to go nowhere, indulgent massages that seemed to unlock every single knot of tension I’d been carrying since I could remember, and a menu of therapies that looked like something out of a dream journal. Yoga. Meditation. Gardening. And the pièce de résistance? Guilt-free sleep for long, unhurried hours. It was like living inside a self-help bestseller, except that I didn’t need to underline a single thing. By the second day, we were fully converted. Life, it seemed, was all about rest, renewal, and rejuvenation. And we had finally learned how to indulge in all three.

And then there was the food. Infuriatingly good food. Not the kind of good that makes you want seconds but the kind of good that makes you wonder why you haven’t been eating this way your entire life. Everything was fresh, filling, and annoyingly virtuous—salads so vibrant, broths so delicate, and desserts that tasted better than anything I’d ever eaten — despite containing absolutely no sugar. It wasn’t deprivation; it was discovery.

But here’s the thing—the real revelation wasn’t in the food or the deep breathing or even the quiet. It was the unloading of the stress. Stress we’d been hauling around, both of us, for so long we’d forgotten what it felt like to be rid of it. And somewhere between the Ayurvedic massages, the green smoothies, and the gentle meditation sessions, that stress began to dissolve. I knew it was gone when Atul burst out laughing when he was served rolled-up pineapple presented as stuffed cannoli dessert… and laughed and laughed, the belly-deep laugh I hadn’t heard from him in years. That’s when I knew we’d found the magic.

By the end of the week, I wasn’t just detoxed. I was transformed. Lighter, freer, calmer—and dare I say it, kinder to myself. Because sometimes, all you really need is the quiet of a forest, the space to breathe, and enough time to forget about the chaos around—and inside—of you. Perhaps most importantly, I learned to listen to my body, which had been screaming at me for years, and finally figured out what it had been trying to tell me all along.

Sometime during that week, I realized the sheer brilliance of putting myself first. Not in a narcissistic, self-absorbed way, but in a way that gives me permission to pause and think about what I, as an individual, want. My own desires. My own thoughts. My own well-being. It sounds so new, so revolutionary—and yet, somehow, it feels like the most obvious thing in the world. Like discovering a secret that had been sitting right there, quietly waiting for me to notice it. Which, of course, I did, while sipping herbal tea and wearing a white kurta-pyjama!

This coming New Year, I’ve made a resolution. It’s not about losing weight or achieving targets or tackling the endless to-do list. It’s about I, Me, Myself. Not in the selfish, “ignore the world” sense—but in the “finally take center stage in my own life” sense. And I can’t wait to see how much brighter everything looks from here.

A moment captured.

Yes, that’s me. Holding sunflowers. For the first time in my life. Though I fell in love with them decades ago…

I first saw sunflowers as a kid in a coffee table book we had at home… Van Gogh’s sunflowers were strangely alluring. I would see them in movies, magazines, and photographs… Yellow fields stretching into the horizon with sunflowers so big, so bright, so beautiful, their cheery heads bobbing in the breeze. And I would imagine myself walking among them…

Though I would actually get to hold them many years later when in Mexico City my husband Atul espied them at a florist and promptly bought me a few. And lovingly clicked a pic of me too!

And this is how you see me here with my sunflowers…

A wide smile on my face,

A warm glow in my heart,

A wonderful moment captured in time.

Isn’t it amazing how the smallest of things in life become our greatest joys?

PS: Another precious moment: A bouquet of sunflowers arrives from my children Tanvi, Garvit and Akshay on Mother’s Day today (13 May 2023). And I happily pose again!

REBOOT @50

With every passing year, our circumstances change, our aspirations change, our priorities change… and life? Life adjusts accordingly.

At 20, I was a student looking to complete my education, begin a career, get married. At 25, I was married with a baby girl and working with an international NGO. At 30, I had crossed over from the field of health & nutrition to hard core consumer research. At 35, I was a mother of two and had given up my full time job to work from home. At 40, I took up my passion for writing, wrote on health for newspapers and magazines and authored a book on nutrition. At 45, I set up a firm for publishing our in-house dictionaries and thesauruses.

At 50, my children had flown the nest, and it was just me and my husband at home… We spent more time with our parents and friends, travelled, ate out, attended plays & exhibitions, binge-watched TV shows… a refreshing change from the time-bound commitments of earlier years.

It also gave us a lot of time to think. To think about ourselves. What did we want as individuals? As a couple? As a family? What direction did we now want our life to take? More importantly, how could we prevent ourselves from sliding into a comfortable existence with only memories and remembrances to bring joy? How could we ensure that we had something to look forward to every single day?

This thinking-through process was especially important for me. I had spent the last 20 years working from home in the mornings and then being with the children when they were back from school. Now I had the entire day to myself. How could I make my days more meaningful, more purposeful?

It was now time. Time to review, renew, refresh. Time to reboot.

Something the American talk show host Oprah Winfrey frequently talks about finds complete resonance within me.

Your life journey is about learning to become more of who you are, and fulfilling the highest, truest expression of yourself as a human being. That’s why you’re here.
Oprah Winfrey

Inspired, I dug deep within me. I asked myself: What do I really want to do for the next 10, 20, and 30 years of my life? What gives me true happiness? What aspects of my life do I need to change? What flaws do I see in myself? How can I align myself more with the world around me? And the answers set me off on a path of self-actualization wherein I have done the following:

1 I have reignited my spark for learning.

I have become passionately curious. I am all eyes and ears for news on politics, economics, technology, business, health, fashion… I realize that being up-to-date helps me understand the world we live in, it empowers me to participate in conversations freely and knowledgeably.

To stay intellectually alive, I try to expand my knowledge every which way I can ~ meeting new people; reading newspapers, magazines, and books; listening to podcasts and talks; watching YouTube videos, films, documentaries and TV shows; participating in workshops and master classes… I now seek to learn from each person I meet, every interaction I have, anything I come across. So that I never ever become outdated.

2 I have become more social.

Nothing de-stresses more than the company of people we like and vibe with. I have reconnected with long-lost friends from childhood, teachers from school, colleagues of yesteryears. I now mingle with them regularly ~ heart-warming interactions over coffee or a meal or on whatsapp. I do more ‘together’ things with them ~ zumba, dance, mah-jong, movies, short holidays and such.

I have also begun volunteering within our community, something unimaginable five years ago!

3 I have taken charge of my health.

I have – with considerable success – shaken myself out of my comfort zone and begun to focus on improving my eating habits, exercising seriously, resting adequately, getting health checks regularly and whatnot. And believe me, the sense of satisfaction is beyond description.

4 I have tried to become a better version of myself.

I have finally begun applying the self-help gyaan I have been reading over the last so many years. (Richard Carlson remains my favorite author till date… his Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff series suggests simple daily changes for leading a more fulfilled and peaceful life.)

For instance, I am – slowly but surely – making peace with imperfection and becoming more tolerant; letting go and accepting others as they are; talking less, listening more; becoming more compassionate, more kind, more helpful… Most importantly, I have become less rigid in my likes and dislikes and more open to change.

My self-improvement list is endless… but a beginning HAS been made. I now get along with the world more easily, more amicably.

5 I try to make every day count.

Every day is important and I try to include all that I consider essential in my day – work, fun, rest, exercise, socializing… so that when I go to bed, I can happily (and honestly) tell myself that the day had been meaningful and that tomorrow will be even better.

Given the improved quality of life and advanced health care in our times, I genuinely believe that the 50-70 year category is the new middle age. And this definitely merits a major re-think of our life as we turn 50.

Each one of us is unique. And the path we choose for ourselves will also be unique. But choose we must. So that the next few decades can be as full of energy as the decades gone by. With no regrets for the ‘roads not taken’.

The very fact that I have been able to identify my path fills me with great joy. The knowledge that I am moving along my chosen path fills me with an intense sense of fulfilment.

And I look forward to my next REBOOT@60!

I can do MORE…

“I could have done more.”

No person should ever have this regret at any point in life, especially in the later years. Not one of us should feel pangs of remorse for time lost, things not done, opportunities foregone, chances not taken. While we still could. But didn’t.

I am not a philosopher. Or an enlightened soul. I do not understand why I have come into this world; I do not know what will happen to me after I die. The only thing I know for certain is that I am alive. And that I want to make the most of my time on earth, that I want to lead a life that is meaningful. So that later when I look back, I can truthfully say to myself, “I made the most of my life.”

***

Life is a collection of days. And every single day is important. What we do each day, little by little, shapes our life. And we need to do as Robin Williams famously says as the English teacher in the 1989 American film Dead Poets Society: Carpe diem! Seize the day, boys! Make your lives extraordinary!

Yes. Every day matters. Every moment counts. Because it is only right here, right now, that things get done. The past is long gone, the future is yet to come… Only the present exists. The present is in our hands, the present is all that matters, and soon… the present too shall pass.

***The present is like the dewdrop… and will be gone soon, as if it had never been.***

***

So then why do we spend so much time of the day lost in our thoughts? When our body works on autopilot? When life passes by in a haze?

For instance, did you note, as you made your way to work today, the freshness in the air after last night’s rain ? The lilies bordering the sidewalk? The trees dappling orange gold in the evening sun? The happy laughter of the kid next door?

This autopilot mode when we go about the day’s work unaware of the present is what Psychology Professor Dr Ellen Langer of Harvard University calls ‘mindless moments,’ moments when one is so trapped in thoughts that we forget to experience, let alone enjoy, what is happening right now. When we become a victim of time and our mind is everywhere but ‘here.’ When our thoughts are on what has been/could have been or what can be/will be. And we become so mindless, Dr Langer explains, we stop paying attention to things around us.

Can one enjoy the weekend if our mind is already thinking about Monday? Or laugh gaily with a friend if we keep remembering how she let us down last year?

Whereas we need to do the opposite. Because only when we are engaged with the external world and its sights, sounds and smells, and pay attention, at the same time, to our innermost thoughts, feelings and sensations, can we enjoy what is happening NOW. Only then can we hope to find happiness in life.

***

A profound concept. But difficult to follow as our monkey mind vaults from thought to thought constantly. And we have to wrench it to remain focussed in the present. So that we can enjoy every moment, relish it, savor it, luxuriate in it, delight in it.

Only when we let go and lose ourselves in the moment, can we enjoy it. See how it relaxes us, how woes and worries melt away, how uncertainties and insecurities disappear, how self-esteem and confidence return, and we can interact with others positively and productively.

***

Life in the moment moves quickly — and I try not to miss it. I try to pay attention to the ordinary things around me. I try to stay focussed on the task at hand. Consciously. With total involvement.

When I wake up, I peep out and take in the dewiness of the morning; as I walk in the park, I direct my attention to the loosening of my back and stretch in my muscles; as I hold my tea, I note the warmth seeping in from the cup; as I cook, I keep my thoughts trained on the cutting, chopping, stirring and serving; when I bite into my sandwich, I feel its texture and savor its flavor; when I write, I block off all external sounds and focus on translating my thoughts into words… When I notice my mind wandering, I repeat to myself, “Now. Now. Now.” And pull myself back.

And I try to carry this mindfulness through the day while watching my daily sitcom or listening to music or discussing plans with others or playing with our golden retriever or shopping or simply relaxing. I go along with the experiences ~ pleasant or unpleasant, good or bad ~ simply because that is what is present, that is all there is, nothing else.

And when I lie down at night, I let go completely. I feel my body sinking into the mattress and appreciate how good it feels. I breathe deeply. And realize that all the happiness is right here, right now, in the present moment. I tell myself: Today was a day well-spent. Tomorrow will be a new day, a day when I can do as much, when I can do MORE.

Ready… Steady… Let Go!

Early morning every day, Richard, our golden retriever, and I set off on a mission. To reach the park before anyone else does. Even if that means leaving at 5 am! So that Richard can run… unchained, uncurbed, unchecked.

Richard loves every minute of it. The moment the leash is off, he takes off at breakneck speed, tearing down the track while I walk at a more sedate pace… chasing squirrels at lightning speed, hounding mynahs looking for insects in the grass, tracking cats that sometimes stray into the park. And when tired, simply rolling in the grass or lapping water from the birdie’s basin or nibbling a jamun from the huge tree in the centre, all the while watching me from the corner of his eye!

This ‘letting loose’ is the most joyful part of Richard’s morning walk. The only time of the day when he is a free spirit. And this makes me think: Don’t we all yearn for our own letting loose moments in life?

When there is not a care in the world? No schedule to adhere, no rings to attend, no emails to revert, no reports to file, no work to do, no timeline to meet, no meals to cook, no stuff to clean? When we can eat, sleep, drink and do whatever we want? No role to fit in, no rules to follow, no compulsion to be nice, no comments to tolerate, no judgments to suffer. No worries, no reminders, no restraints?

When we are away from the mundaneness of routine. When we can stop taking life so seriously. When we can pardon our self for not doing anything.

When we are answerable to no one. When we don’t expect anything of our own self. When we can just be our self. When we can think about our self.

When we can simply live in the moment. When we can be our true Self. When we can stop looking for happiness and just be happy.

***

Each one of us deserves such precious moments of freedom, of free will, of free choice. On a regular basis.

A husband needs this time away from his wife, the wife from her husband. Children from their parents, parents from their children. Staff from their bosses, bosses from their staff. We all need some time, some place, away… far away from everyone and everything. We all need to simply let go!

We need to set ourselves free. We need to set our loved ones free. For an hour, a day, a week, a month… for as long as it takes. Alone or with family or friends. At home or far away.

So that when we come back, reassembled, repaired and renewed, we are ready to meet life as it comes.

Solitude by chance

We are surrounded by people all the time. Even when alone, rings and pings of the phone keep us bound to the world outside. Moments of quietude are rare… and longed for longingly. I found my share of true solitude in southern Italy last winter. Unexpectedly.

Atul and I had set off to explore the Amalfi coast which is a series of cliffs that plunge steeply into the turquoise Tyrrhenian Sea. We drove along the mountain edge, the narrow road curving in and out, past small towns with their pastel-colored houses and piazzas, the blue sea on our right, deep down below us.

The coastline is dotted with numerous caves partially submerged in the sea. Small openings in the walls allow light to enter through the water and flood the cave with amazing shades of blue and green. The Grotto dello Smeraldo or the Emerald Cave, our first stop, is one such cave. A hundred odd steps took us down to the jetty from where a boat would take us into the cave. Winter being off-season, the jetty was totally deserted and the ticket man went off in search of the boatman.

I wandered down the last few steps and looked out at the sea. The sun was already high in the sky, shining down on the waves as they lapped gently against the rocks. I settled down on the last step, enjoying the pleasant warmth of the winter sun.

The water stretched endlessly before me, sunshine turning the blueness of the sea into molten silver. Time seemed to stand still. I sat there lost watching the play of the sun on the waves, barely aware of the faint sounds of cars on the road above. Immersed in the moment. Unmindful of time or thought. In sync with the sea and the sky and the sun… the elements coming together with my inner self, binding us forever.

I hugged the moment of complete solitude to me, wonderfully alive, filled with unexplained joy.

***

Back home, many months later, the memory of those moments comes unbidden to me… I see again the sea stretching in front of me, the waves moving, the light dancing… and I am alone once again filled anew with remembered calm and peace. With renewed energy, I turn to engage with the world over again.

PS: Would you like to share your moment of solitude?

Love… Inside-Out

One evening last week, my husband Atul related something profound about Warren Buffet, a man he admires greatly for his business acumen as well as philosophy in life. The fourth wealthiest man in the world, ninety year old Mr Buffet says that the greatest measure of success at the end of our life comes down to one word: Love.

I was immediately interested. I looked up the quote. Mr Buffet, speaking to students at Georgia Tech, revealed that the ultimate test of how you have lived your life is the number of people who actually love you. Because as Mr Buffet says: You can’t just write a check for a million dollars’ worth of love. Love has to be earned. And the more you give love away, the more you get.

The thought touched a deep chord within me. I am a firm believer in the concept of love. Love for All. Not just the people who are close to us but the larger band of people we come in contact with in life.

Sounds idealistic? Not really.

*

Love is a powerful emotion. The most positive. The most magical. We love our family. No one teaches us to love our parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins… it comes naturally. And once we step out in to the world, we meet new people on a daily basis. It is estimated that we meet as many as 10 thousand people in our life; others project as many as 25-30 thousand!

There are the people we work with, our neighbors, teachers, classmates, business associates, friends of friends, gym buddies, shop keepers, vendors, handymen and support staff. Others we meet briefly ~ when we travel, at the theatre, playground, restaurant, even peddlers at intersections! With some of these people, we build cherished bonds that last a lifetime; with others, the interaction may be brief and not that important, but a connection is made nevertheless. A role that is fulfilled, a function that is realized.

Every connection is valuable; every interaction meaningful. Even if it as routine or as mundane as waving at the guard when you drive past the gate. Life is one big co-existence. And how we connect with others defines the way we relate to our own self and the world at large. And determines the life we build for ourselves.

*

When we interact with a person, we look at his expression, gestures and posture, take in his words, and listen to the tone of his voice. We take it all in and form our own assessment of the person and his perspective… Our judgment then defines our relationship with him. That is, most of us, usually, use this Outside-In approach in connecting with people.

What if we love Inside-Out?

What if we were to meet people with a heart full of love? All people. Everyone. People we live with; people we meet for the first time, second time… n^th time; people we meet briefly or with whom we do not expect to form long-lasting relations…

Because when our heart is full of love, our entire being is positive. We exude a warmth, a willingness to listen. An unvoiced acceptance and appreciation for the other. Mixed with a degree of caring and compassion. This unspoken communication of unconditional love creates an inter-connectedness that sets the stage for a meaningful exchange, however brief.

*

Celebrated psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl in his 1946 memoir Man’s Search for Meaning reiterates, “Love is the only way to grasp another human being in the innermost core of his personality. No one can become fully aware of the essence of another human being unless he loves him.”

And it’s true. By giving our love first, we create a psychologically safe environment, an atmosphere of peace and well-being that is non-threatening and brings out the best in others, that allows a person to blossom into his own self without fear of retribution. When leaders display practical love, people love coming to work and they return the love back in full force. Mr Buffet seeks to create, and attributes the high performing success of his company, to this culture of unconditional love.

Closer home, Munnabhai, the protagonist of the 2003 hit film of the same name, taught us the power of love in another dimension. When Munnabhai walks up to the grouchy, grumbling sweeper in his college and hugs him, the old man is overcome with emotion; Munnabhai’s hug conveys kindness, compassion and gratitude all rolled into one leaving the old man (and us) tearful and smiling!

*

When we give our love freely without expecting anything in return, we experience the same within ourselves. Whether it be lifting up a colleague with encouragement, helping develop an employee under our leadership care, or infusing deep meaning and purpose into someone’s work role, love comes back in full force.

The power of love is held within each of us. And we hold the key to its release. The choice is ours.

Try it. Once. Just once.

heartbeat

In search of Happiness…

Idle curiosity last summer made me post on FB: Happiness is…

Because aren’t we all looking for happiness? The reason why we get up every morning, work, love, have a family, buy stuff, socialize, study, exercise, entertain, travel, play… As the Dalai Lama puts it: The very motion of our life is towards happiness.

My friends’ insightful responses made me pause, ponder, and explore further…

Sure. Great films, amazing food, meeting friends, good books, all leave that pleasant warm glow within us we call ‘happiness.’ Which makes life worthwhile. For me, there is no greater joy than sharing golgappas with my daughter or watching an Avengers film with my son or simply sitting with a cup of tea. Yet, these moments are brief, short-lived. Isn’t happiness something greater? Something that pervades our soul on a more sustained basis through life?

My friends definitely think so. They say happiness is a state of mind. A sense of well-being. An appreciation of life. That it is in the mind and comes from within. And that nobody can come and give us happiness… we have to seek it… on our own. That happiness is a choice we make, a decision we take. AND. We can train our mind to learn happiness! We just need to be aware of where and how to find it.

Money did get mentioned as a prerequisite to happiness. Of course, money IS important; money buys us comfort, safety and freedom in life. However, falling into the more you have-the more you want trap can cause even more UNhappiness! So once we have enough to keep our heads above water, swimming towards happiness is entirely up to us. Otherwise, the not-so-fortunate could never be happy!

Going over my friends’ responses, I realized that happiness means different things to different people. All agree that happy people are content, satisfied and see happiness all around them… put together, their answers paint a rather happy picture of happiness!

Happiness is… making others happy

When we help others, support them, be with them, we are happy. Happiness means loving others AND telling them so. Genuinely acknowledging the support of family, friends, neighbors, colleagues, helpers, fills us with inner peace and confidence. Having people whom we can turn to for affection and understanding gives us the strength to survive health challenges better.

Happiness is… total acceptance

We Are What We Are. Happiness means being yourself. Accepting yourself as you are.

They Are As They Are. Accepting others, without trying to change them, is essential too.

It is as it is. This phrase brings out the essence of optimism perfectly. All we can do is accept life’s quirks and carry on.

Sounds like a tall order but accepting ourselves, others and circumstances is, my friends say, the path to contentment and happiness.

Happiness is… loving ourselves

We are always busy. 24 x 7 x 365. When do we take out time for ourselves? To do what we like? Taking out time for our own self is the primal need of every human being. Being alone gives us breathing space, a chance to think quietly, to put our life in perspective, to be at peace.

Happiness is… being fit

When one of my friends commented that “happiness means being able to fit into old clothes” I am sure she was not jesting. Happiness means being fit – in the body and in the mind. And exercising does both.

Happiness is… getting the job done

Happy people do the things they like to do. AND. Enjoy things they don’t like to do too. After all, isn’t our sense of fulfilment the greatest when we accomplish something we didn’t like, didn’t want, to do?

Each of us needs to devise our own mechanism to achieve the completion of daunting tasks. For me, the thought of having a cup of tea at the end of a gruelling task is the biggest motivation for carrying on!

Happiness is… ‘Is-ness”

Is-ness: An apt term coined by a friend for living in the moment. Because the present moment is the only moment we have. The only moment we have to be happy.

Living in the present keeps us focussed, helps us concentrate better on the job at hand. This is the ‘flow experience’ described by psychologist Csikszentmihalyl ~ the experience when one is totally involved and immersed in a task to the exclusion of all thought other than the work at hand. The resulting sense of achievement, ecstasy, serenity is surely happiness?

Happiness is… finding a meaningful purpose in life

Perhaps this is the most important aspect of happiness: recognizing the things which give meaning and purpose to our life, and then, doing them wholeheartedly.

For me, this means carrying out my role in this world to the best of my ability ~ my role as a daughter, wife, mother, sister, colleague, friend, neighbor, citizen… and above all, as a human being. And enjoying every moment of it. Without the fear of not succeeding in it.

The most striking revelation for me was:

There is no way to happiness – happiness is the way.

We all set out to achieve a happy life ~ a good job, a great relationship, a bigger house ~ firm in the belief that happiness awaits us in the future… As a friend points out, happiness is not something in the distance, to be achieved over time; it is HERE, RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW. So smile, laugh and live life to its fullest… THAT is happiness.

PS: A message I received on Whatsapp seems apt in these unprecedented corona times: Happiness is viral. Go infect someone.

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