Category: Life reflection

  • Maybe the Community Doesn’t Need Fixing. Maybe I Do.

    Maybe the Community Doesn’t Need Fixing. Maybe I Do.

    How would you improve your community?

    How would I improve my community?

    .

    By doing something slightly uncomfortable.

    .

    I’d stop assuming I’m always right.

    .

    Not a great personality trait to give up, I know.

    But most of our “community issues”

    feel less like real problems…

    and more like a collection of people

    (me included)

    who don’t pause long enough to think,

    “Maybe it’s not just them.”

    .

    I’ve judged people in seconds.

    Misread silences.

    And replied “hmm” to things

    that probably deserved a little more heart.

    .

    Efficient? Yes.

    Helpful? Not really.

    .

    So maybe… I’d start there.

    .

    I’d listen. Properly.

    .

    Not the kind where I nod

    while preparing my next sentence

    but the slightly uncomfortable kind

    where I don’t interrupt,

    don’t fix,

    don’t turn it into my story.

    .

    Just… listen.

    .

    I’d also retire my habit

    of building full personalities for people

    based on one moment.

    .

    Because apparently,

    people are not trailers.

    You don’t get the whole story in 30 seconds.

    .

    And kindness

    I’d stop treating it like a rare personality trait

    and start using it like a default setting.

    .

    No announcements.

    No “look how nice I am” energy.

    .

    Just…

    a softer tone,

    a delayed reaction,

    a message I choose not to send.

    .

    Because sometimes,

    what I don’t say

    improves things more than what I do.

    .

    And when I don’t understand someone

    instead of guessing, decoding, overthinking

    .

    I’d ask.

    .

    Directly. Simply. Humanly.

    .

    Will this fix everything?

    .

    No.

    .

    Someone will still misunderstand.

    I’ll still have off days.

    And someone will definitely still send

    “Good Morning 🌹” at 6 AM.

    .

    But maybe

    someone around me

    will feel less judged.

    .

    One conversation

    will feel a little safer.

    .

    One moment

    will feel… lighter.

    .

    And honestly,

    if my presence can do that

    .

    then maybe I didn’t fix the whole community…

    .

    but I stopped making it harder to live in.

    .

    And these days,

    that itself feels like a pretty good improvement. 🙂

    .

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • When “Being Big” Was the Only Plan

    When “Being Big” Was the Only Plan

    When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?

    When I was five,

    I didn’t want to be something…

    I wanted to be everything

    (with zero effort, obviously).

    .

    Doctor

    because I owned a plastic stethoscope

    and confidence levels higher than actual doctors.

    .

    Teacher

    just to say,

    “Silence!”

    to people who weren’t even talking.

    .

    Pilot

    because I thought waving hands

    could control air traffic.

    (Still think that sometimes in traffic jams.)

    .

    And sometimes…

    I just wanted to be my mother.

    .

    Wearing her saree,

    standing in front of the mirror,

    fixing pleats that never stayed,

    pretending I had somewhere important to go.

    .

    No job title.

    No big dream.

    .

    Just… her.

    .

    Then came the real ambition

    to be “older.”

    Not successful.

    Not happy.

    Just… older.

    .

    Because older people

    had no homework,

    no bedtime,

    and unlimited authority

    to say “because I said so.”

    .

    Scam of the century, honestly.

    .

    I also wanted to be rich

    so I could buy

    all the chocolates in the world…

    and still cry over the wrong toy.

    .

    Priorities were clear.

    Logic was not required.

    .

    Funny thing is

    nobody asked,

    “What will you actually become?”

    .

    Because at five,

    dreams didn’t need backup plans,

    or Excel sheets,

    or self-doubt.

    .

    They just needed

    a random Tuesday afternoon

    and a little imagination.

    .

    Now people ask me that question

    with deadlines in their eyes.

    .

    “What do you want to be?”

    .

    And I almost say

    five again.

    .

    Because back then,

    I wasn’t confused…

    .

    I was just

    limitless without pressure.

    .

    Now I’m focused…

    .

    …on pretending I know

    what I’m doing.

    .

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • A Mother’s Kind of Weather❤️ 

    A Mother’s Kind of Weather❤️ 

    What is your favorite type of weather?

    Favorite Weather?

    .

    There was a time when my favorite weather was rain…

    Getting drenched without a second thought, chai, pakoras, and just living for myself.

    .

    Then life updated me to Motherhood Version 2.0 😄

    .

    Now weather means:

    * Rain = “Oh no, bring the clothes inside!”

    * Winter = “Did you wear your sweater? Wear another one!”

    * Summer = “Did you drink water? I’ve asked three times already!”

    .

    And the biggest climate shift…

    From “What do I like?”

    To “What keeps my kids okay?” ☁️

    .

    Honestly…

    I don’t crave any romantic weather anymore.

    My favorite weather is simply this:

    ✔ Uniforms dry on time

    ✔ No one falls sick

    ✔ And “Mummmaaa…” sounds normal, not urgent 😄

    .

    Sounds funny… a little sarcastic too…

    But it’s true

    After becoming a mother, even the seasons don’t belong to you,

    They follow your children’s routine 😌

    .

    Sometimes I remember…

    There was a time I enjoyed the rain…

    Now it rains, and I manage laundry 🤦‍♀️

    .

    But then I realize…

    Maybe this is what motherhood is

    Not forgetting your choices,

    Just happily postponing them ❤️

    .

    And honestly…

    In doing all this for them,

    I find my favorite “weather” anyway

    Their laughter 😊

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

    .

  • The Question I Never Answer Properly

    What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.

    A candlelit writer’s desk by a window with an open notebook and tea, creating a magical mysterious mood with the title “The Question I Never Answer Properly” and Nihshabd.
    Unanswered Question

    There is a question

    people ask very casually.

    .

    Almost playfully.

    .

    As if they’re tossing a pebble

    into a quiet lake

    and expecting

    a very small ripple.

    .

    They never suspect

    the pebble reaches the bottom.

    .

    The funny thing is

    the question itself is simple.

    .

    Tiny, even.

    .

    Just a few harmless words

    floating politely in the air.

    .

    But somehow

    those words expect

    my entire day…

    my thoughts…

    my strange little routines…

    to stand in a neat line

    and introduce themselves.

    .

    And that is where

    things become difficult.

    .

    Because my days

    don’t stand in neat lines.

    .

    They wander.

    .

    Some mornings begin with tea

    and a thought that refuses to leave.

    Some afternoons disappear

    inside a sentence

    that is trying to become something.

    .

    Sometimes I read.

    Sometimes I stare at the sky

    like it forgot to finish a story.

    .

    Sometimes I watch people

    doing very important things

    very quickly

    for reasons

    nobody seems to remember.

    .

    And in the middle of all this

    someone eventually asks

    .

    “What do you do all day?”

    .

    Ah.

    .

    There it is.

    .

    The question.

    .

    The one that expects

    a tidy answer.

    .

    Doctor.

    Teacher.

    Engineer.

    Business.

    .

    Nice answers.

    Respectable answers.

    .

    But life rarely behaves

    that neatly.

    .

    So I smile.

    .

    I give a smaller answer

    than the truth deserves.

    .

    Because the real answer

    would take stories.

    .

    It would take wandering thoughts,

    curious observations,

    and a little bit of everyday magic.

    .

    The truth is

    .

    I spend my days

    noticing life.

    .

    Collecting its quiet moments.

    .

    Turning them over in my mind

    until they become words.

    .

    And honestly?

    .

    For something that sounds

    so difficult to explain…

    .

    I enjoy every minute of it. ✨

    .

    —Rajeshwari🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • My Survival Starter Pack🎧

    My Survival Starter Pack🎧

    What are three objects you couldn’t live without?

    .

    People chase enlightenment.

    Cute.

    I just need three things to stay functional:

    my phone, my iPad, and music that hugs my brain.

    .

    1. My Phone — my loyal, toxic soulmate

    .

    My phone is basically in a long-term relationship with me.

    It sees everything:

    my late-night chaos, my early-morning delusion,

    and every screenshot of people I pretend not to stalk.

    .

    It gives me red flags disguised as notifications

    and still acts shocked like,

    “Storage full? Babe, you did this.”

    .

    But honestly

    no one knows me the way my phone does.

    Not even me.

    .

    2. My iPad — where my sanity goes to detox

    .

    The moment I pick up my iPad,

    I transform into the artist version of myself

    that real life is clearly too scared to handle.

    .

    Brushes, layers, colors

    this is my therapy without the invoices.

    .

    It’s the only place where I make a mistake

    and the universe actually gives me an Undo button.

    (Real life should take notes.)

    ..

    3. Music — the mood-fixer, ego-booster, brain-therapist

    .

    Music isn’t background for me.

    It’s my entire emotional operating system.

    .

    Low energy?

    The beat slaps me like,

    “Get up, diva.”

    .

    Overthinking?

    The melody whispers,

    “Ssshh, babe… breathe. I got you.”

    .

    Feeling hot?

    Music switches on my main character syndrome

    without even asking for WiFi.

    .

    It’s the only thing that flirts with me daily and never gets blocked.

    .

    THE END (and also the truth)

    .

    So yes

    give me my phone, my iPad, and my music.

    Keep the rest of the world.

    People drain my battery,

    but these three?

    They charge me

    emotionally, mentally, and occasionally… literally.

  • The Word That Needs To Be Yeeted Out of This Planet.

    The Word That Needs To Be Yeeted Out of This Planet.

    If you could permanently ban a word from general usage, which one would it be? Why?

    If I could permanently ban one word from general usage,

    it would be—

    SHOULD.”

    .

    Yes.

    That tiny, overconfident, unsolicited life-advisor of a word.

    .

    “You SHOULD do this.”

    “You SHOULD be like that.”

    “You SHOULD have settled by now.”

    “You SHOULD behave like an adult.”

    .

    Excuse me?

    I can’t even decide what to eat without scrolling food reels for 20 minutes.

    Please calm down.

    .

    “Should” is basically society’s way of saying:

    “We don’t know your life, your brain, your dreams, your trauma,

    but we’ll still tell you what to do.”

    .

    And honestly,

    I’ve followed more “shoulds” than Google Maps,

    and both have taken me to the wrong place at least once.

    .

    Should” carries guilt.

    Should” carries pressure.

    Should” carries expectations that no one asked for

    (but are delivered free with every conversation, like tissue paper in restaurants).

    .

    Imagine a day without “should.”

    You’d wake up and think:

    “I could… if I want to.”

    Now THAT is freedom.

    That is peace.

    That is therapy without the bill.

    .

    We women especially hear a lifetime supply of “should”:

    You should talk less.

    You should smile more.

    You should adjust.

    You should compromise.

    You should dress like this.

    You should NOT dress like that.

    You should sit like a lady.

    You should stand like a lady.

    You should breathe like a lady.

    .

    Arre bhai…

    woman hu, WiFi router nahi, jo sabke expectations connect karu.

    .

    So yes…

    If the universe gives me one ban power,

    I’m taking should

    and sending it on a long, unpaid vacation.

    Somewhere far,

    where even autocorrect can’t find it.

    .

    Because life becomes softer, calmer,

    and beautifully mine

    when I replace “should” with:

    .

    “I want to.”

    “I choose to.”

    “I feel like it.”

    or

    “My peace comes first.”

    .

    Honestly?

    That’s the kind of vocabulary upgrade we all deserve. ✨

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    (Poem ©Rajeshwari.

    Unauthorized copying, reposting, or use of this content is not allowed.)

  • ✨ When I Believed the Sky Was Taking Attendance ✨

    ✨ When I Believed the Sky Was Taking Attendance ✨

    Are there any activities or hobbies you’ve outgrown or lost interest in over time?

    There was a time

    when the road looked less like asphalt

    and more like a magic carpet

    that forgot to fly.

    And I?

    I rode my bicycle

    as if two wheels were enough

    to negotiate with the universe.

    Butterflies floated beside me

    not flying,

    flexing.

    Showing off their glitter wings

    like they were the fashion icons

    of the botanical world.

    And I chased them

    with the confidence of someone

    who truly believed

    speed was a personality trait.

    The sun was my spotlight,

    sprinkling warm gold on my face

    like a friendly aunty

    throwing blessings at a wedding.

    Clouds drifted lazily above,

    those soft, spoiled creatures

    with zero deadlines

    and too much attitude.

    Every time the wind

    whipped past my ears,

    I felt it gossiping,

    “Look at her…

    thinking she’s faster than me.”

    So obviously,

    I pedaled harder

    because childhood egos

    are the safest to lose.

    The road was full of bumps,

    twists, loose stones

    basically nature’s way of saying,

    “If you fall,

    I’ll give you a story.”

    And it did.

    Scraped knees,

    dramatic pauses,

    and that tiny moment

    between the fall and the rise

    where even the dust whispered,

    “Go again…

    this scene can be improved.”

    There were days

    I truly believed

    my shadow was trying to keep up.

    Days I felt the sky

    lean in closer

    as if taking attendance:

    “Present!” I’d shout silently,

    racing with dreams

    I didn’t even know

    were dreams yet.

    Those rides weren’t about speed.

    They were about that bold, silly hope

    that maybe just maybe

    the world was small enough

    for me to explore

    before lunch.

    And now?

    Life has turned into

    traffic, to-do lists,

    and grown-up sighs.

    But sometimes the wind

    brushed against my arm

    in that old familiar way,

    or a butterfly zigzags past

    like a sign I once understood…

    And suddenly,

    the road inside me wakes up

    stretching, sparkling,

    smelling faintly of sunshine

    and scraped knees.

    Maybe I don’t ride every day.

    Maybe the bicycle waits longer.

    But that childhood version of me

    the wild one,

    the sky-toucher,

    the wind-challenger

    she still flutters inside me

    like a stubborn butterfly

    who refuses to retire.

    And honestly?

    I think one morning,

    when the breeze gets a little naughty

    and the sun looks exactly

    like an old friend trying not to smile,

    I’ll push those pedals again

    wobbly, excited,

    heart beating like a small drum.

    Because some roads

    don’t forget you.

    They just wait.

    And some dreams?

    They grow wings

    the moment you stop doubting

    you had them all along.