They say—you don’t plan a visit to Mahakaal Baba.He calls you. And when He does… it’s not just about reaching a temple—it’s about arriving within yourself. Because even in the rush,the overwhelming crowd,the noise all around—something quietly shifts inside. He doesn’t take away the chaos…He places a calm within you. … A stillness you can’t… Read more

Not all protection announces itself. Some of it simply stays quiet, constant, and unseen. That day, on an unknown road in Mahakaal Baba’s Nagari, in an almost forgotten corner, after a random pause and a random click, when I saw the picture, there it was—a saffron flag dancing in the wind above me with Lord… Read more

For most of the year, this Kanchanar tree outside my window stands quietly — almost blending into the chaos of the city.And then, just for a week or so at the beginning of summer, it transforms. This afternoon , when I looked out of my window, the branches were suddenly bursting into soft pink blossoms… Read more

(But Never From a Parent’s Heart) The house feels empty. Not silent — empty. The dogs and the stillness move from room to room, as if searching for the laughter that just boarded a flight. After ten magical days of noise, chaos, hugs, late-night conversations, and morning shouts of “Maa!”, the kids have gone back.… Read more

One hand full of stories…One hand full of dreams….Between silk sarees and tiny braids,between experience and innocence,a silent promise is exchanged —that“We belong to the same roots.” In those small held handsis curiosity, admiration,and a love that needs no introduction. Family gatherings quietly bridges time.In these small treasured moments of happiness…love learns its own legacy… Read more

Bittu had been asking me to attend this reunion — the grand old KV ASC/JLA one. I wasn’t very sure. Life had already started feeling a little fossilised… and honestly, what was I even supposed to talk about? God’s sake, now my daughter too is out of school and married. What will I do there?… Read more

Army Day meant little to me today—until my Mausa ji stood at my door.Eighty-one.Upright.Wearing a grey coat with red stripes,I’ve known all my life.I complimented him, casually.And suddenly, his eyes sparkled.This is my IMA sports coat, he said—lookFootball, 1969.Basketball, 1969.Neatly inscribed on front pocket along with logo . In that moment,those weren’t numbers—they were memories… Read more

This morning…after days of fog-heavy winter silence, sunlight finally finds my face—gentle, unhurried, almost apologetic. A cold breeze moves through my hair,and somehow that contrast makes the warmth feel even more precious. I lie on the charpai,eyes closed, doing nothing at all—just feeling. Sun on my skin..Breeze in my hair…A lazy Sunday unfolding slowly. Nearby,… Read more

The only place where IST—Indian Stretchable Time—doesn’t work is where my foundation was laid. I grew up in the fauj. So 8:00 pm never meant 8:00 pm. It meant 7:45.pm And if you reached at 8, you were already late. Sixteen years in the Army— not a lifetime, but long enough to permanently wire punctuality… Read more