NihshabdBlog

Category: Humor

  • Every Grey Hair Has a Backstory (And It’s Probably Hilarious!)

    Every Grey Hair Has a Backstory (And It’s Probably Hilarious!)

    Every Grey Hair Has a Backstory… and I’m Pretty Sure None of Mine Appeared Because I “Aged Gracefully.” 🤭

    The first grey hair didn’t politely knock on my door.

    It simply appeared one morning, caught the bathroom light at just the right angle, and stood there looking ridiculously proud of itself.

    People say grey hair is a sign of wisdom.

    Really?

    I’m convinced it’s mostly a sign that life keeps handing us surprise assignments without checking whether we’re already working overtime. 😂

    One grey hair probably arrived after hearing,
    “Can I ask you a quick question?”
    …and discovering that “quick” meant the next forty-five minutes.

    Another showed up after a sleepless night spent overthinking a conversation that ended three days ago.

    A few settled in after years of pretending,
    “I’m fine.”
    Meanwhile, my brain had twenty-seven tabs open, one was playing music, three were buffering, and I couldn’t figure out where the stress was coming from.

    Then there are the grey hairs gifted by family gatherings.

    Those deserve medals.

    And let’s not forget the ones that appeared after someone casually said,
    “Don’t stress so much.”

    Oh, thank you!

    I had absolutely no idea I could simply switch stress off. Why didn’t I think of that sooner? 😄

    Every Grey Hair Has Earned Its Place

    The funny thing is…

    People often see grey hair as proof that we’re getting older.

    I see it differently.

    Each silver strand is a tiny receipt.

    A receipt for every difficult decision.
    Every responsibility carried.
    Every unexpected detour.
    Every lesson learned the hard way.
    Every laugh that somehow made everything bearable.

    Maybe that’s why they don’t bother me anymore.

    They’re not stealing my youth.

    They’re quietly reminding me that I’ve lived… really lived.

    Grey Hair Doesn’t Tell Your Age. It Tells Your Story.

    So, whether you’re a woman, a man, or someone who’s still proudly counting “just two grey hairs”… tell me—

    If they could gossip about you, what story would they tell? 🤭

    Now It’s Your Turn…

    Now it’s your turn. Confess! Which grey hair has the funniest backstory? Mine are refusing to sign a non-disclosure agreement. 😄

    .

    Until the next whisper…
    —Rajeshwari     🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari

    .

    READ MORE : A Blank Canvas and a Blank Page

  • Why Does This Always Happen to Me?

    Why Does This Always Happen to Me?

    What’s the funniest misunderstanding you’ve ever been part of?

    Why Does This Always Happen to Me?

    Why does this always happen to me?
    I honestly ask myself this question more often than I’d like to admit.

    If misunderstandings were an Olympic sport, I’d probably have a lifetime achievement award by now.

    Seriously…

    Why does this always happen to me?

    There are people who walk into a room and instantly recognize everyone.

    They know names.

    They remember faces.

    They somehow even remember conversations from years ago.

    And then there’s me…

    Living life like I’m permanently in the middle of a social quiz that I never studied for.

    The Wave That Was Never Meant for Me

    It usually starts with someone looking in my direction.

    They’re smiling.

    They’re waving.

    Now, you’d think experience would have taught me not to assume anything.

    But no.

    Every single time, my brain confidently whispers,

    “She’s smiling at you… and waving at you.”

    Never mind the fact that I’ve never seen her before.

    Not once.

    Not at school.

    Not in the neighborhood.

    Not anywhere.

    But the moment someone smiles or waves in my direction, my brain immediately decides,

    “Yes… she definitely knows you.”

    So I smile back.

    I wave back.

    With complete confidence.

    And then…

    With absolutely perfect timing…

    She walks right past me to greet the person standing behind me.

    For a split second, I just stand there…

    Still smiling.

    Still waving.

    Questioning every life decision that brought me to that exact moment.

    I don’t even get embarrassed anymore.

    I’ve become an expert at pretending I was simply stretching my arm… or admiring a tree… or looking at literally anything except the awkwardness I just created.

    You’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now.

    I haven’t.

    Motherhood Changed the Game

    Just when I thought my accidental waving incidents couldn’t get any more embarrassing…

    I became a mom.

    That’s when a whole new category of misunderstandings entered my life.

    Every now and then, another mom walks up to me with the warmth of an old friend.

    “How have you been?”

    “How are the kids?”

    “I saw your post the other day.”

    She remembers little details about my life.

    She knows exactly who I am.

    Meanwhile, my brain has already launched a full-scale investigation.

    Who is she?

    A school parent?

    Someone from tuition?

    A birthday party from years ago?

    A school event?

    Or have we simply spent years smiling at each other during pick-up and drop-off?

    I search my memory for the tiniest clue.

    Nothing.

    Absolutely nothing.

    Yet somehow, the conversation flows beautifully.

    I smile.

    I nod.

    I laugh at all the right places.

    I answer every question with complete confidence while silently praying she never asks,

    “You do remember me… don’t you?”

    Because that would be the exact moment my soul would quietly leave my body.

    And that’s exactly when I find myself thinking…

    Why Does This Always Happen to Me?

    They seem to know everything about me…

    …while I know almost nothing about them.

    Maybe I’m terrible with faces.

    Maybe motherhood introduces us to so many people that our brains simply run out of storage.

    Or maybe this is just my life’s favorite prank.

    Whatever the reason…

    I still haven’t learned my lesson.

    The next time someone smiles in my direction…

    I’ll probably smile right back.

    Because apparently, hope has a better memory than I do.

    So tell me…

    Why does this always happen to me?

    Or am I not the only one?

    Has someone ever waved at the person behind you while you happily waved back?

    Or had a complete stranger walk up and start a conversation as if you’ve known each other forever… while your brain desperately searched for a clue?

    Please tell me I’m not alone.

    Because if this only happens to me…

    I might actually start checking who’s standing behind me before I smile back.

    .

    Until the next whisper…
    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari

    .

    Read More : A Little Chaos, A Lot of Great Stories

    From “MOMMMM!” to “Did You Eat?” — A Mother’s Entire World ❤️

  • If My Bank Passbook Had a Sequel

    If My Bank Passbook Had a Sequel

    What’s a Book You Think Deserves a Sequel? My Bank Passbook!

    If My Bank Passbook Had a Sequel—I’d buy it without reading the reviews. Forget fantasy novels and bestselling classics. The only book I truly want a sequel to is my bank passbook, preferably with more deposits, fewer bills, and a guaranteed happy ending.

    .

    Most people would choose a timeless classic.
    I didn’t even have to think twice.

    .

    Mine is… my bank passbook.

    .

    Once upon a payday,
    it opened with great delight.
    The numbers smiled,
    the future looked bright.

    .

    Then entered the villains—
    rent, groceries, bills,
    school expenses,
    and those irresistible online thrills.

    .

    Every chapter grew thinner,
    every page sighed,
    my balance became
    something it preferred to hide.

    .

    The ATM looked at me
    with quiet sympathy.
    Even the receipt seemed to whisper,
    “We’ll get through this… hopefully.”

    .

    So yes,
    what’s a book you think deserves a sequel?

    .

    My bank passbook.

    .

    I’m waiting for the edition
    where deposits arrive
    without farewell speeches,
    expenses learn some manners,
    and the balance finally says,

    .

    “Relax… this story has a happy ending.”

    .

    Until then,
    I’ll keep turning the pages,
    hoping the next chapter
    is written by good luck…
    instead of my shopping cart.

    .

    If My Bank Passbook Had a Sequel, I’d happily call it the best financial fiction ever written.😎

    .

    With a smile,
    Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari

  • What Do I Do to Improve My Sleep? (Spoiler: I Don’t!)

    What Do I Do to Improve My Sleep? (Spoiler: I Don’t!)

    What do you do to improve your sleep?

    Every time someone asks how I improve my sleep, I feel slightly guilty.

    .

    Because apparently, I’m supposed to have a routine.

    .

    People brew chamomile tea, meditate, journal, switch off screens an hour before bed, spray lavender on their pillows, play rainforest sounds, and count sheep like they’re preparing for the Olympics of Sleeping.

    .

    Meanwhile…

    .

    I simply go to bed.

    .

    Well… almost.

    .

    There is one tiny obstacle.

    .

    My brain.

    .

    The same brain that has remained suspiciously quiet all day suddenly becomes the CEO of Midnight Meetings Pvt. Ltd.

    .

    “Remember that awkward thing you said five years ago?”

    “What if tomorrow’s conversation goes terribly wrong?”

    “Shouldn’t we also plan next month’s grocery list… right now?”

    .

    Seriously?

    .

    You’ve had sixteen waking hours to bring this up.

    Now you want a board meeting?

    .

    Sorry.

    .

    Office hours are over.

    Please send an email.

    .

    Most nights, I politely decline the invitation.

    .

    Because every extra minute spent overthinking is a minute stolen from perfectly good sleep.

    .

    And I refuse to let imaginary problems rob me of real rest.

    .

    So, touchwood, I’ve never really had to improve my sleep.

    .

    The moment my head finally reaches the pillow, it’s game over.

    .

    No lavender.

    No sleep apps.

    No breathing exercises.

    No smart gadgets congratulating me for existing.

    Just one pillow…

    …and lights out.

    .

    If I have one piece of bedtime advice, it’s this:

    Don’t let your brain schedule meetings after business hours.

    .

    Nothing productive has ever happened at 2 a.m.
    Except winning imaginary debates against people who have no idea they’re involved.

    .

    Sleep is free.
    Overthinking is expensive.
    I’ve decided to invest wisely.

    .

    Because tomorrow deserves a well-rested version of me,

    not the one who stayed awake arguing with imaginary situations.

    .

    So, if I have one sleep secret, it’s this…

    .

    I don’t chase sleep anymore. I stop chasing thoughts, switch off the day, and let my pillow do the rest.

    .

    Until silence finds another story…
    With love,
    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari

  • Thankfully, Only My Dignity Was Fractured

    Thankfully, Only My Dignity Was Fractured

    Have you ever broken a bone?

    Have You Ever Broken a Bone?

    The moment I read this prompt, my brain did not ask,
    “Have I ever broken a bone?”

    .

    It immediately asked:

    “Wait… whose bone are we talking about here?” 🤨

    .

    Because honestly, the wording felt slightly suspicious.
    Like the prompt was quietly investigating my criminal history.

    .

    For a second I genuinely wanted to reply:

    “Your Honor, before I answer, I would like my lawyer present.” 🤭

    .

    But thankfully, no.
    I have never broken a bone.

    Not mine.
    Not anyone else’s either.
    Very proud of this peaceful achievement, by the way. ✨

    .

    Which is honestly shocking considering the number of times my toes have violently collided with furniture.

    .

    And I don’t mean a gentle little bump.
    I mean full-speed emotional impact.

    .

    One time the swelling was SO bad that I had already started imagining dramatic X-rays (which, unfortunately, I actually had to get done), hospital scenes, and an inspiring recovery journey.

    .

    But apparently my bones looked at the situation and said:

    “Not today.” 😌

    .

    Meanwhile I was walking around the house like an injured freedom fighter for fifteen days.🫣

    .

    At this point, my skeleton deserves employee-of-the-month recognition.🤭

    .

    Though emotionally?
    Different story.

    .

    A few days ago, I confidently waved back at someone…
    who was actually waving at the person behind me.🤭

    .

    And I’m sorry, but some things fracture beyond medical repair.😪

    .

    I still think about it randomly and suffer.

    .

    So no broken bones so far.
    Just broken dignity, damaged confidence, and occasional attacks from table corners. ✨

    .

    A cozy illustrated scene of a girl with a bandaged foot sitting beside a table corner, surrounded by funny notes about broken dignity, awkward waving, and surviving life without broken bones.
    Bones survived. Dignity… still recovering. 🤭

    .

    With love,

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • Work-Life Balance, Homemaker Edition

    Work-Life Balance, Homemaker Edition

    How do you balance work and home life?

    How do I balance home and life?

    Very professionally.

    .

    I ignore one thing while doing another. ✨

    .

    I’ll start cleaning one corner of the house and somehow end up reorganizing a drawer nobody has opened since the Mughal era.

    .

    I keep things in “safe places” so safe that even I can’t find them later.
    I make tea and forget to drink it.
    I fold clothes nicely knowing fully well someone will pull out one T-shirt like they’re auditioning for a disaster documentary.

    .

    And why does everyone in the house ask questions only when I finally sit down?

    .

    The entire day is basically:
    getting up, keeping things back where they belong, and repeating,
    “Ye yahan kisne rakha???”

    .

    But honestly… somewhere between reheating tea, fixing little messes, hearing people call my name from every room, and ending the night with a tired smile…

    .

    I think this is my balance.

    .

    Not perfect.
    Not organized.
    Just a home slowly held together with small everyday love.

    .

    .

    A cozy featured image showing a homemaker holding tea in a warm kitchen with handwritten notes and the title “Work-Life Balance, Homemaker Edition”.
    Keeping the house running… one reheated cup of tea at a time. ☕✨

    With love,

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • Tiny Sacrifices of a Dramatically Distracted Person 🌻

    Tiny Sacrifices of a Dramatically Distracted Person 🌻

    What sacrifices have you made in life?

    People ask about sacrifices in life
    as if I marched through storms
    and gave up everything for greatness.

    .

    Meanwhile, I once sacrificed
    an entire evening
    trying to take one decent candid photo
    only to use the first blurry picture anyway.

    .

    I have sacrificed sleep
    to imaginary conversations
    that never happened.

    .

    I have sacrificed productivity
    to “I’ll just sit for five minutes”
    and somehow became emotionally attached
    to the floor, the ceiling,
    and my own thoughts.

    .

    I have sacrificed money
    to iced coffee, pretty notebooks,
    and things described online as
    “small little joys”
    which is honestly
    a very dangerous category.

    .

    I have sacrificed my dignity
    while confidently waving back at someone
    who was waving at the person behind me.
    And since embarrassment was already guaranteed,
    I finished the wave properly too.

    .

    I have sacrificed my self-respect
    by checking the fridge repeatedly
    as if new food appears
    through manifestation.

    .

    And perhaps my biggest sacrifice of all
    acting normal
    after saying “you too”
    to a waiter who told me to enjoy my meal.

    .

    So no,
    I have not sacrificed kingdoms, dreams, or destiny.
    But I have survived
    many tiny embarrassments with remarkable courage. 🌻

    .

    A cozy illustrated blog cover featuring the title “Tiny Sacrifices of a Dramatically Distracted Person” with warm aesthetic decor and the signature “Nihshabd.”
    Tiny battles. Tiny embarrassments. Tiny sacrifices. 🌻

    .

    With love,

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • Too Weird to Follow, Too Chaotic to Lead 👑

    Too Weird to Follow, Too Chaotic to Lead 👑

    Are you a leader or a follower?

    “Leader or follower?”
    Neither, honestly 😭

    .

    I’m the self-appointed queen of my own chaos. 👑✨

    .

    Some days my brain gives TED Talks,
    some days my heart starts a rebellion,
    and some days the butterflies in my stomach
    run a full circus without permission 🦋🎪

    .

    I don’t follow crowds…
    but trusting me as a leader is also a risky business.
    Even my own plans look at me and say,
    “Girl… be serious for once.” 🫣

    .

    My inner compass doesn’t point north.
    It points toward
    “whatever feels dramatic and fun.” 💫

    .

    And honestly?
    I’ve stopped trying to look “sorted.”
    The universe clearly made me with extra glitter,
    questionable decisions,
    and a personality that treats peace like a temporary side quest 😌

    .

    I romanticize tiny moments,
    argue with myself like a podcast guest,
    create fake scenarios before sleeping,
    and somehow survive every emotional plot twist
    with late-night overthinking,
    pretty sunsets,
    and pure cinematic delusion ✨🌙

    .

    People keep asking me to “pick a lane,”
    but I am the traffic, the weather, and the unexpected detour 😭🦋

    .

    So no
    I’m not a leader.
    I’m not a follower.

    .

    I’m just the main character
    of a beautifully confused little universe
    where logic is optional,
    vibes have permanent authority,
    and chaos wears a tiny invisible crown 👑💫

    .

    A dark dreamy aesthetic poster with soft butterflies, golden sparkles, and elegant typography reading “Too Weird to Follow, Too Chaotic to Lead” signed by Nihshabd. 🦋✨
    Too magical for rules, too chaotic for labels 👑🫣

    .

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • Unfortunately, Everyone in My Life Is a Fruit

    Unfortunately, Everyone in My Life Is a Fruit

    List your top 5 favorite fruits.

    I used to think choosing favorite fruits was easy.
    Then I realized fruits are basically people with vitamins.

    .

    Some look sweet and ruin your peace.
    Some look hard and turn out softer than your overused pillow.
    And some… honestly belong in therapy.

    .

    So here’s my completely unscientific, emotionally damaged fruit ranking:

    .

    1. Mango

    .

    The dangerously attractive people.
    Zero consistency. Full personality.
    They appear once a year, disturb your emotional balance,
    make life feel cinematic for three days,
    then vanish like a government website after login.

    .

    2. Banana

    .

    The simple, dependable people.
    No confusion. No emotional puzzles.
    Just kindness, consistency,
    and replies that don’t require detective work.

    .

    The kind of people
    who say “reached home” without being reminded
    and somehow restore your faith in humanity a little. 🍌

    .

    3. Coconut

    .

    Looks emotionally unavailable.
    Probably replies with “hmm.”
    But secretly has the softest heart imaginable.
    Opening up to them, however, requires tools, patience,
    and possibly divine intervention.

    .

    4. Grapes

    .

    Friend groups.
    You invite one person for chai
    and suddenly there are eleven people sitting in your room
    finishing your snacks and judging your taste in music.

    .

    5. Watermelon

    .

    Looks huge. Feels promising.
    But after cutting through all the effort,
    it’s somehow 87% water and disappointment.

    .

    At this point, my life doesn’t need healing.
    It needs refrigeration. 🍉😭

    .

    Because every time I meet someone new,
    my heart starts acting like it found
    “limited edition seasonal fruit” again.

    .

    And honestly?
    Some people are not red flags.
    They’re just fruits you forgot to refrigerate in time.

    .

    Minimal aesthetic poster with warm sunlight, books, dried flowers, and the quote “Unfortunately, Everyone in My Life Is a Fruit.”
    Some people ripen beautifully.
    Some disappoint quietly. 🍂

    .

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved