Tag: Nihshabd journal

  • The Space Between Her Names

    What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning/significance?

    .

    A woman looking out a window beside a notebook and coffee, symbolizing reflection and the hidden story between her names.
    The quiet story every woman carries within her name.

    .

    “What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning or significance?”

    .

    A curious little question.

    .

    But for many women, a middle name is rarely just a name.

    It is often a quiet inheritance.

    .

    Sometimes it carries a grandmother’s strength.

    Sometimes a mother’s unfinished dream.

    Sometimes a family’s hope that she will hold the world together… politely.

    .

    And sometimes it carries nothing anyone wrote down

    just the silent training that began very early:

    .

    be kind,

    be patient,

    be graceful,

    be smaller than your anger,

    bigger than everyone else’s expectations.

    .

    A middle name can be many things for a woman

    a blessing, a memory, a responsibility,

    or a soft reminder of who she was expected to become.

    .

    But the beautiful part?

    .

    Somewhere along the way, she starts writing her own meaning into it.

    .

    Not just with sacrifice,

    but with dignity.

    With quiet authority.

    With the gentle but undeniable varchasva of a woman who finally understands her worth.

    .

    So this little prompt about a middle name…

    is actually a very big question.

    .

    Because every woman carries a story between her first name and her last.

    .

    And that space

    that quiet space

    is where her real identity slowly begins to bloom.

    .

    —Rajeshwari🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • What Peace Taught Me 

    What is the last thing you learned?

    .

    Woman sitting by a calm lake at sunrise, reflecting in silence and peace.
    A quiet moment where peace finally speaks.

    .

    The last thing I learned

    did not arrive in a classroom,

    or a self-help book

    with a smiling author

    telling me to “manifest better energy.”

    .

    It arrived

    after I spent years

    trying to fix things

    that were not broken

    .

    just

    not meant for me.

    .

    For a long time

    I believed patience could solve anything.

    .

    Give it time.

    Give it love.

    Give it another conversation.

    .

    Give it one more chance.

    .

    Apparently,

    I was running an emotional charity

    no one applied for

    but everyone benefited from.

    .

    I believed if I tried harder

    people would understand me.

    .

    If I explained better

    things would change.

    .

    If I stayed longer

    something would finally click.

    .

    What finally clicked

    was something else entirely.

    .

    Peace.

    .

    Quiet, stubborn,

    unapologetic peace.

    .

    It showed up one day

    looked at the chaos around me

    and said,

    .

    “I’m not living here.”

    .

    That was the day

    I learned a new skill:

    .

    Letting go.

    .

    Not the dramatic

    movie-style goodbye.

    .

    Just a quiet

    mental unfollow.

    .

    Some people

    are chapters.

    .

    Some situations

    are footnotes.

    .

    And some things

    are simply drafts

    life decided not to publish.

    .

    So now

    I let go of what resists me.

    .

    I stop arguing with closed doors.

    I stop watering plastic plants.

    I stop auditioning for roles

    in stories that never had my name in them.

    .

    And honestly?

    .

    The silence afterwards

    is beautiful.

    .

    Because the last thing I learned

    is something surprisingly simple:

    .

    Peace is not something

    you find.

    .

    It is something

    you protect.

    .

    And once you taste it,

    you stop fighting

    for anything

    that disturbs it.

    .

    A small reminder to every woman reading this —

    we spend our lives keeping everyone happy,

    and somehow end up standing alone with our own storms.

    So give your peace a little importance too.

    At least a small share of calm in this life should belong to you.

    Protect your peace… the rest is manageable.

    .

    —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 Failures Did Something My Success Never Could

    How has a failure, or apparent failure, set you up for later success?

    Man sitting on a rooftop at sunset reflecting on failure and success with the title “My Failures Did Something My Success Never Could”.
    Failure did the real work

    I once tried to win at life

    on the very first attempt

    because obviously,

    I thought destiny had prepared

    a red carpet for me.

    .

    Life laughed.

    Not politely.

    The full-volume kind.

    .

    Doors didn’t open.

    Plans collapsed like cheap furniture.

    My confidence packed a bag

    and quietly left the room.

    .

    Failure arrived instead

    uninvited,

    overdressed,

    and extremely comfortable

    staying longer than expected.

    .

    At first I hated it.

    Naturally.

    .

    Nobody throws a party

    for the day they discovered

    they were spectacularly wrong.

    .

    But failure has strange habits.

    .

    It sits beside you

    when the applause disappears.

    It points at your excuses

    like a strict teacher with a red pen.

    And it whispers,

    .

    “Try again.

    But this time

    maybe use your brain.”

    .

    So I did.

    .

    I learned how to fall

    without announcing it to the entire world.

    How to rebuild quietly.

    How to laugh at my own dramatic disasters.

    .

    Turns out,

    failure wasn’t the villain

    I thought it was.

    .

    It was the unpaid internship

    that secretly trained me

    for the job I wanted.

    .

    Because the truth is

    success didn’t arrive

    when everything went right.

    .

    It arrived much later,

    wearing the clothes

    my failures stitched for me.

    .

    And honestly?

    .

    Looking back,

    those failures did most of the work.

    .

    I just showed up

    for the success interview.

    —Rajeshwari🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • When Eyes Forgot to Behave

    Two people crossing paths in soft light, sharing an intense, witty, unspoken eye-contact moment filled with quiet tension and almost-confession energy.
    Illustrated by © Rajeshwari

    Their eyes met

    quietly,

    almost shyly,

    .

    as if the moment itself

    didn’t want to draw attention

    to how much it held.

    .

    It felt harmless at first…

    the kind of glance people ignore

    when they’re pretending

    not to feel the warmth

    spreading anyway.

    .

    Her eyes murmured,

    “Don’t overthink it.”

    .

    His answered with a calm

    that gave everything away

    .

    “You already did.”

    .

    Something gentle drifted between them

    a confession too soft to announce,

    too honest to hide,

    too delicate to touch

    without changing it.

    .

    The moment stayed

    not loudly,

    not boldly

    .

    just with that tender insistence

    that asks for nothing

    yet means everything.

    .

    She looked away

    a graceful retreat,

    a small attempt

    to steady her breath.

    .

    He didn’t stop her;

    he simply held the silence

    with a smile

    that knew more

    than it claimed.

    .

    It was that beautiful in-between

    where affection disguises itself

    as composure,

    and the heart quietly reveals

    what the voice refuses to shape.

    .

    Of course it wasn’t love.

    Of course not.

    It was just…

    .

    a look

    .

    soft as dusk,

    light as a secret,

    .

    the kind that slips into memory

    before you even realize

    you’re keeping it.

    .

    —Rajeshwari🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved

  • ✨Beautiful Mess✨

    ✨Beautiful Mess✨

    You’re writing your autobiography. What’s your opening sentence?

    “I didn’t ask for a dramatic life

    but apparently, I was cast as the main character anyway.”

    .

    No audition.

    No rehearsal.

    Just life handing me a script

    with seventeen plot twists

    and absolutely no instructions.

    .

    I try doing everything at once.

    Write something meaningful.

    Fix my future.

    Organize my chaos.

    And somehow remember

    why I walked into the room.

    .

    My brain is a busy marketplace

    ideas shouting,

    dreams bargaining,

    doubts offering discounts.

    .

    People say,

    “Take it slow.”

    .

    Slow?

    My thoughts run marathons

    while I’m still tying my shoes.

    .

    Some days I’m confident

    I’ll conquer the world.

    Other days I’m Googling

    “how to get life together in 5 easy steps.”

    .

    But here’s the secret:

    .

    Between the confusion,

    the unfinished plans,

    and the dramatic internal monologues,

    something beautiful keeps happening.

    .

    I grow.

    I learn.

    I try again.

    .

    So yes,

    maybe I didn’t ask for this role.

    .

    But if life insists

    I’m the main character…

    .

    I might as well

    play it well.

    .

    —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 Beauty I Grew From♥️

    The Beauty I Grew From♥️

    What experiences in life helped you grow the most?

    .

    What helped me grow?

    Honestly… my habit of finding joy

    in places no one even checks.

    .

    I grew when life handed me small moments—

    a pretty sky,

    a good song,

    a silly conversation,

    a smile from someone who didn’t know

    they just made my day.

    .

    I grew because I laugh easily,

    love openly,

    and get excited over the tiniest things

    yes, even perfectly crispy dosa.

    .

    I grew when I realised

    life doesn’t have to be perfect

    to feel beautiful.

    Sometimes it’s just one good joke

    away from being amazing.

    .

    I grew when I loved someone

    with my whole, bright heart

    and loved myself

    with even more sparkle than that.

    .

    I grew through the “oops” moments,

    the “lol forget it” moments,

    and the “thank God nobody saw that” moments.

    .

    I grew by staying kind

    even when sarcasm deserved a trophy.

    And by staying soft

    even when the world tried to act tough.

    .

    Most of all

    I grew because I never stopped choosing happiness.

    Not fake-happy.

    Not show-off happy.

    But the honest, warm,

    “I’m grateful for my life” kind of happy.

    .

    So yes

    my growth came from joy.

    From dance-in-the-kitchen joy,

    laugh-with-your-friends joy,

    sit-in-silence-and-smile joy.

    .

    And from knowing that

    no matter what life brings…

    I’ll always find something beautiful in it. ✨

    .

    ✨The Support Behind My Smile♥️✨

    .

    And through it all,

    I grew because I was never alone.

    .

    Because my family held me

    no matter who I was becoming.

    Because my friends stayed close

    even from miles away.

    Because life kept sending

    small lessons wrapped in kindness.

    .

    If I shine today,

    it’s because of every heart

    that quietly walked with me.

    .

    —Rajeshwari🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved.

  • ✨ Gone Without Goodbye

    ✨ Gone Without Goodbye

    Describe a phase in life that was difficult to say goodbye to.

    There was a phase of my life

    that didn’t just happen to me—

    it lived inside my bones.

    The kind that leaves slowly,

    like someone taking their hands

    off your throat…

    but gently.

    .

    I knew it was ending

    long before I admitted it.

    Goodbyes always start

    with silence —

    the kind you pretend not to notice

    while noticing every second of it.

    .

    Some days it felt like

    love wearing borrowed clothes—

    a little tight,

    a little loose,

    anything but mine.

    And yet,

    I kept adjusting myself

    like a fool

    hoping the fitting would change.

    .

    When it finally walked away,

    I didn’t cry immediately.

    I just forgot how to breathe

    for a few weeks.

    Funny, right?

    You don’t realize someone

    was oxygen

    until you’re counting

    your inhales like bills.

    .

    But the strangest thing?

    I still feel relieved

    knowing they’re okay

    wherever they are.

    Like…

    I don’t want them back,

    but I don’t want them hurting either.

    Life is weird.

    Or maybe I am.

    .

    And then there were the goodbyes

    that weren’t even goodbyes —

    just sudden disappearances

    into a place no map can bring them back from.

    The kind that split your existence

    into a “before” and an “after.”

    When they left,

    they didn’t just leave the world —

    they left my world.

    It felt like someone pulled a rib out of me,

    a whole structure of safety and warmth,

    and now I live with a space inside my chest

    that no love, no person,

    no future can ever refill.

    It doesn’t heal…

    you just learn to walk around it

    like a crack in your own spine.

    .

    Even now, when a certain song plays,

    my chest remembers

    what my mind has forgiven

    and my heart has outgrown.

    .

    And that phase?

    I’ll never get it back.

    But I’m learning to love

    the version of me

    who survived it —

    without bitterness,

    without blame,

    without begging anyone

    to stay.

    .

    🌸 A Message for Every Woman

    — Read This Slowly

    Choose yourself.

    Always.

    At every turn, every milestone, every heartbreak.

    Love yourself loudly enough

    that people think twice

    before leaving

    and think a hundred times

    before hurting you.

    .

    Stand on your own feet

    so firmly

    that anyone who walks beside you

    knows it is an honour —

    not a favour.

    .

    Let the world learn

    how to love you

    from the way you love yourself.

    .

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    © Nihshabd by Rajeshwari. All Rights Reserved.

  • If I Could Be Someone Else… I’d Still Pick Me 2.0

    If you could be someone else for a day, who would you be, and why?

    A digital illustration of a woman in a white and gold saree standing gracefully between two ornate green pillars. She has long dark hair, a magenta blouse, and a soft confident expression. The text above her reads “If I Could Be Someone Else… I’d Still Pick Me 2.0,” and “Nihshabd” is written elegantly at the bottom. Illustration by Rajeshwari.
    Illustration by Rajeshwari

    **I’D STILL PICK THE UPGRADED ME**

    .

    If I could be someone else for a day,

    honestly—

    why borrow anyone else’s chaos

    when my own evolution is already iconic?

    .

    I’d choose Me 2.0 —

    the version with fewer meltdowns

    and better brain Wi-Fi.

    The me who eats chocolate on impulse

    and refuses to feel guilty about joy.

    .

    The me with built-in auto-replies like:

    “Not today, darling.

    My peace is running on premium mode.”

    .

    A me with a radar

    that detects energy vampires

    from two emotional miles away.

    .

    The version of me

    who doesn’t argue with the bathroom mirror—

    just lifts an eyebrow and says,

    “You’re doing amazing.

    Stop underestimating your own sparkle.”

    .

    A me with

    better boundaries,

    cleaner eyeliner,

    and a much smarter list of people

    whose opinions are allowed to land.

    .

    A me who knows

    when to raise the sarcasm

    and when to raise the silence.

    The Nihshabd version—

    just with a software update.

    .

    A me who says

    “I deserve softness”

    without whispering it.

    A me who dances

    like people are watching—

    and still doesn’t care.

    .

    If I could be someone else for a day,

    I’d pick the woman I’m already becoming:

    sharper, softer, louder, quieter—

    all in the right places.

    .

    Because honestly?

    Why be someone else…

    when the next version of me

    is already legendary in the making?

    —Rajeshwari 🧿💕

    Poem & Illustration © Rajeshwari — All Rights Reserved. Do not repost or reproduce without permission.