NihshabdBlog

Category: Nihshabd journal

  • Cold Weather Feels Like a Personality Upgrade ❄️☕

    Cold Weather Feels Like a Personality Upgrade ❄️☕

    How do you feel about cold weather?

    Cold weather feels like life finally lowering its brightness a little. ❄️

    .

    After months of surviving heat that makes you question your existence, your skincare, your electricity bill, and sometimes even your own attitude… winter enters quietly like,
    “Calm down, drama queen. Sit in the sun and heal.”

    .

    And honestly?
    No season has better marketing than winter.

    .

    Suddenly everyone becomes soft-spoken philosophers with a cup of chai in hand.
    People who ignored sunlight all year are now sitting in balconies like retired grandparents, rotating themselves every five minutes for “even heating.” ☀️

    .

    Winter also turns ordinary things into luxury experiences.

    .

    Warm blankets? Heaven.
    Hot chai? Therapy.
    Sunny afternoons? National treasure.
    Freshly washed blankets? Spiritual awakening.

    .

    Flowers suddenly start looking happier,
    butterflies return like they pay seasonal visits,
    and somehow even the air starts smelling softer. 🌼🦋

    .

    And eating ice cream in winter?
    That’s not dessert. That’s confidence.

    .

    Closets go through full character development too.
    Out come the sweaters, shawls, hoodies, fuzzy socks, jackets nobody touched all year…
    and suddenly every house starts looking like a tiny winter fashion parade. 🧣✨

    .

    There’s also something deeply satisfying about wrapping yourself inside a blanket so completely that only your eyes are visible — like you’re either hiding from responsibilities or running a secret undercover operation. 🫣

    .

    Even sadness feels aesthetic in winter.
    You stare out of the window for two minutes, holding a cup of chai, and suddenly every passing breeze feels like a memory you forgot you had. ✨

    .

    And somehow, winter makes people softer too.
    Conversations become slower.
    Laughter stays a little longer.
    Even silence starts feeling comforting instead of empty.

    .

    Maybe that’s why cold weather feels special to me.
    Not because life magically becomes perfect…
    but because winter teaches you that happiness was never hiding in big moments.

    .

    Sometimes it’s just sunlight on the floor,
    warm hands around a cup of chai,
    a soft blanket after a tiring day,
    flowers quietly blooming outside your window,
    and a peaceful evening that asks nothing from you except to exist in it. ❄️✨

    .

    A cozy winter-themed scene with a warm cup of chai by the window, soft blankets, fairy lights, and the title “Cold Weather Feels Like a Personality Upgrade” with the signature Nihshabd.
    Winter — where chai tastes better and life feels softer. ❄️☕✨

    .

    With love,

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕🦋

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • I Agree

    I Agree

    Somewhere between
    “we care about your experience”
    and
    “we noticed you were thinking about shoes,”
    the internet became a little too good
    at knowing us.

    .

    It remembers
    what we search at 2 a.m.,
    what we almost buy,
    what we secretly fear,
    what we type…
    and delete before sending.

    .

    Every click
    leaves a fingerprint.
    Every pause
    becomes data.
    Every silence
    gets measured somehow.

    .

    And maybe that’s the creepiest part
    not that machines are watching,
    but that they watch so quietly
    we forget they are there.

    .

    Phones glow softly beside our pillows
    like loyal friends,
    while somewhere far away
    algorithms build tiny versions of us
    from our habits and hesitation.

    .

    A digital ghost
    wearing our face.

    .

    Privacy used to mean
    a locked diary,
    a closed door,
    a whispered secret.

    .

    Now it means
    hoping the microphone
    wasn’t listening
    when life fell apart at midnight.

    .

    Still,
    humans remain strange creatures.

    .

    We trade pieces of ourselves
    for convenience,
    for faster delivery,
    for curated songs,
    for five seconds less loneliness.

    .

    And afterward
    we wonder why ads
    know our hearts
    better than some people do.

    .

    Maybe the future won’t arrive
    with flying cars or silver robots.

    .

    Maybe it already slipped quietly
    into our homes,
    our pockets,
    our sleepless nights.

    .

    Not asking to be feared.
    Not forcing its way inside.

    .

    Just waiting patiently
    for one tired human
    to press

    “I Agree.”

    .

    A girl illuminated by her phone screen while digital eyes and data surround her in silence.
    Sometimes the scariest things watch quietly.

    .

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • The Little Things I Secretly Live For ✨

    The Little Things I Secretly Live For ✨

    Daily writing prompt
    What’s a simple pleasure in life that brings you joy?
    View all responses

    Simple pleasure?
    Honestly, my happiness standards are beautifully random. 😭

    .

    Some people feel happy after buying expensive things.
    Meanwhile, I feel emotionally fulfilled after matching all the kitchen container lids correctly in one attempt. That satisfaction deserves respect.

    .

    I love making illustrations and then staring at them every few hours like I accidentally created a museum-worthy masterpiece. Sometimes I zoom into tiny details nobody else will notice and silently appreciate my own talent. Very supportive audience. Very loyal fan base. 😌

    .

    Old songs in the background while doing work make life feel softer somehow. Freshly washed clothes smelling like sunlight, perfectly made chai, cloudy evenings, arranging messy drawers for absolutely no reason, and finding forgotten money inside an old bag all these tiny things genuinely make me happy.

    .

    And honestly, nothing feels more rewarding than working in the garden for days and finally seeing one tiny flower bloom. After so much effort, that little flower feels like a personal victory. 🌼

    .

    Evening walks with Kiwi are also one of my favorite simple joys. Just walking slowly, feeling the evening breeze, watching random things, and forgetting life’s unnecessary stress for a while.

    .

    Family Ludo matches are another level of happiness. What starts as “just one game” somehow turns into emotional drama, cheating allegations, temporary alliances, revenge moves, and lifelong grudges over one cut token. 😭 Nobody in the family plays peacefully. Everyone suddenly becomes a strategist, a lawyer, and a victim at the same time.

    .

    Children are also walking bundles of happiness. Their random questions, dramatic storytelling, tiny hugs, sudden mood swings, and the way they can turn a quiet room into complete chaos within three minutes… irritating sometimes, adorable always.

    .

    I think simple pleasures matter because life is already loud and exhausting enough. These tiny moments quietly repair us without making a big announcement about it. ✨

    .

    Tiny moments. Big happiness. 

    .

    With Love,

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • 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

  • Collecting Colours the World Forgot

    Collecting Colours the World Forgot

    Some people heal in silence,
    some buy expensive candles,
    and some of us stare at butterflies
    like they personally pay our therapy bills.

    .

    I belong to the third category.

    .

    A butterfly passes by
    and suddenly my entire personality becomes
    “poet standing dramatically near window during rain.”

    .

    Honestly, embarrassing.

    .

    But tell me
    how does something so tiny
    carry an entire rainbow
    without looking arrogant about it?

    .

    If humans had those colours
    we’d immediately start a podcast.

    .

    Butterflies simply float around
    like soft little reminders that
    beauty does not need announcement,
    only sunlight.

    .

    And perhaps a flower or two.

    .

    Sometimes I think
    God created butterflies
    on a Friday evening
    when heaven’s creative team said,
    “Let’s add glitter to nature
    but make it emotionally intelligent.”

    .

    Excellent decision, truly.

    .

    Because look carefully
    every butterfly feels like
    a flying piece of weather.

    .

    A little barish.(rain)
    A little dhoop.(sunlight)
    A little khushboo (fragrance) of forgotten gardens.
    A little magic stitched into wings.

    .

    Even the breeze behaves differently around them,
    like the wind itself is trying not to be rude.

    .

    Meanwhile humans…
    one inconvenience
    and we become unpaid philosophers.

    .

    Wifi slow?
    “Nothing in life is permanent.”

    .

    Tea cold?
    “This world lacks warmth.”

    .

    But butterflies?
    Zero complaints.
    Just vibes and floral diplomacy.

    .

    I envy that.

    .

    I too wish to enter rooms
    the way butterflies enter gardens
    quietly, beautifully,
    making everything look softer
    without touching a thing.

    .

    Maybe that is why
    I love colours so much.

    .

    Not loud colours.
    Not festival-shop chaos.

    .

    I mean the gentle colours.

    .

    The glow after rain.
    The pink hiding inside sunsets.
    The golden smell of old evenings.
    The blue that lives quietly in lonely skies.

    .

    Those colours.

    .

    The kind that do not scream,
    yet somehow stay in your memory
    longer than people.

    .

    But beautiful things usually are.

    .

    And perhaps that is the real magic
    not becoming extraordinary,
    but remaining soft
    in a world training everyone
    to become stone.

    So if someday
    you see me smiling at butterflies
    like an emotionally unstable Disney princess,
    please mind your business.

    .

    I am busy collecting colours
    for the parts of me
    the world tried to leave grey. 🦋✨

    .

    Dreamy pastel collage featuring butterflies, rainbow-toned typography, soft skies, flowers, and a girl watching the sunset beside the title Collecting Colours the World Forgot.
    For hearts that romanticize rain clouds and tiny miracles. ☁️🦋

    .

    With love,

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • Some Things Refuse to Age✨

    Some Things Refuse to Age✨

    What’s the oldest things you’re wearing today?

    The oldest thing I’m wearing today
    is the way I still fall in love with tiny things. 🌸

    .

    Tiny joys.
    Tiny moments.
    Tiny unnecessary happiness that serves absolutely no purpose except making life feel softer.

    .

    I still look at the moon like she personally came to visit me.
    I still pause for orange skies, old songs playing from another room, cold pillows, and the smell of books I had no intention of buying.

    .

    Some people became cooler with age.
    I became the kind of person who whispers “the sky looks so pretty today” like it’s confidential information.🫣

    .

    I still listen to songs older than me like they’re personal memories.
    I still open cupboards just to touch my mother’s old sarees sometimes
    soft with time, carrying the quiet fragrance of another generation.
    And somehow, certain fabrics don’t just hold threads,
    they hold festivals, old conversations, familiar laughter, entire versions of home.

    .

    And honestly, I think that’s the oldest part of me.

    .

    Not my habits.
    Not my memories.
    Not even the emotional damage carefully marinated over the years.

    .

    Just this stubborn little ability to be delighted by life.

    .

    And truthfully, I wasn’t always like this.
    There was a time I thought happiness had to arrive loudly
    as achievements, big moments, big plans, big miracles.

    .

    But the last few years quietly taught me otherwise.

    .

    Now I think life mostly happens in smaller ways.

    .

    In warm tea.
    In window seats.
    In hearing your favorite song unexpectedly.
    In someone remembering how you take your chai.☕️
    In old songs drifting through another room while the evening slowly settles around you.

    .

    Maybe growing up was never supposed to mean becoming less amazed.✨
    Maybe the real tragedy is how many people stopped noticing the softness around them.

    .

    Meanwhile, I’m still out here treating fairy lights like a spiritual experience and old sarees like heirlooms from another universe.

    .

    And frankly?
    I hope that part of me never ages. ✨
    Someone has to keep reacting to flowers and clouds like they’re celebrity sightings. ☺️

    Warm nostalgic artwork with old sarees, books, tea, and the title Some Things Refuse to Age ✨
    Some softness never really leaves us. 🌸

    With Love,

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • Too Glamorous To Stay In The Wrong Chapter

    Too Glamorous To Stay In The Wrong Chapter

    Apparently life looked at my carefully planned storyline, laughed dramatically, spilled coffee on the script, added unnecessary character development, a few trust issues, three emotional plot twists, and then said —
    “Now survive this, princess.” 🎭✨

    .

    And honestly?
    For a while I thought the story was over.

    .

    Because nobody prepares you for the chapters where you outgrow people, dreams change addresses, happiness becomes shy, and even your own mirror looks at you like,
    “Girl… what exactly are we doing?” 😭

    .

    But maybe that’s the beauty of life.
    It doesn’t ask us to stay the same person forever.

    Maybe we were never meant to remain the “good chapter.”
    Maybe we were meant to become the author. 🌙

    .

    So yes…
    rewrite the story.

    .

    Delete the scenes where you begged for bare minimum love.
    Cut off the side characters who only appeared for drama and free emotional snacks.
    Give yourself the main-character background music you deserved from the beginning. 🎻✨

    .

    Romanticize your healing.
    Wear the outfit.
    Start again at 28, 38, or 78.
    Text less. Sleep more.
    Stop shrinking to fit places that couldn’t even hold your honesty.
    And please… stop treating your dreams like spam messages. 😭

    .

    Because the truth is
    some endings are not tragedies.
    They’re just life clearing the stage before your real entrance.

    .

    And one day, when everything finally makes sense,
    you’ll sit with your older, wiser self, sip overpriced coffee dramatically, and whisper


    “Thank God I rewrote that chapter.” ☕✨

    .

    Until then…
    keep the mystery alive, keep the heart soft, and keep editing the story like a slightly unhinged poet with WiFi and emotional damage. 💌

    .

    A dreamy illustrated woman in a soft ivory saree sits by a golden sunset window, quietly rewriting her story in a journal. The aesthetic cover features warm cinematic lighting, elegant typography, and the title “Too Glamorous To Stay In The Wrong Chapter” with the author name Nihshabd below.
    Soft heart. New chapter. ✨🌙

    —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