If your future self could send you one sentence, what do you hope it would say?
If My Future Self Could Send Me One Sentence…
If my future self could send me just one sentence, I think I know what I’d want to hear.
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I imagine a little butterfly arriving from somewhere in the future, fluttering around me, landing gently on my hand and whispering:
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“You’re doing good. Don’t give up now.” 🦋
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I’d probably smile and ask, “Really? Even with all the mess I’m currently making?” 😄
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And maybe she’d just flutter her wings as if to say, “You’ll see.”
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Perhaps that is the message we all need sometimes.
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Keep doing your best without worrying too much about tomorrow. Work hard, keep moving, and don’t give up just because the results are taking their sweet time.
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As Krishna says in the Bhagavad Gita:
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“कर्मण्येवाधिकारस्ते मा फलेषु कदाचन।”
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You have a right to your actions, but not to the fruits of your actions.
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Do the work. Give it your best. Let tomorrow take care of itself.
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And when the doubts get too loud, imagine that little butterfly again.
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Maybe it knows something we don’t.
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Maybe it has already seen the ending.
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And just when we’re about to ask, “Okay, but tell me what happens next…”
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it flies away.
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Of course.
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Future self: excellent at encouragement, absolutely terrible at giving spoilers. 😂🦋
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What Would You Hope to Hear?
And now I’m curious…
If your future self could send you one sentence today, what would you hope it would say?
Would it be “You made it”, “Keep going”, “Everything worked out”—or something completely different?
Tell me. If that little butterfly from your future landed on your hand today, what message would you want it to bring? 🦋
If these little reflections stayed with you, I’ve put together 6 Small Reflections, a Future Self Questionnaire, and a printable bookmark for you to keep, print, or revisit whenever you need a little pause.
What’s the best local dish you’ve ever eaten while traveling?
What’s the best local dish you’ve ever eaten while traveling?
Local food while travelling is one of my favourite parts of any trip. And this is such a difficult question for an Indian. 😄
Because honestly, the list is way too long. If I start writing about everything delicious I’ve eaten while travelling, one blog post definitely won’t be enough. I might have to start a separate food blog! 😂
We don’t just travel to see places. We travel with one eye on the view and the other on “Yahan kya famous hai?” (What’s famous here?) 😂
Local Food While Travelling in India
I’ve had those huge, buttery aloo parathas in Murthal, with pickle on the side and a steaming cup of chai. If you ever go there, pakke se try karna! (You absolutely must try them!) You may plan to eat just one. Good luck with that. 😄
Then there’s Lonavala in the rain.
The wet roads, the clouds passing almost at eye level, the thick mist, the little waterfalls appearing all along the way, the beautiful ghats…
Lonavala in the rain. 🌧️
And then, after all that, reaching Lonavala and having a hot bhutta (roasted corn).
Honestly, the bhutta probably tasted better because of everything that came before it. ❤️
Clouds, mist and monsoon magic. ☁️
If you ever plan a trip to Lonavala, go during the rains. That whole journey is an experience in itself.
And then there were the chole bhature near the Golden Temple in Amritsar—because apparently visiting a holy place and then immediately looking for good food can peacefully coexist. 😂
A little memory from Attari. 🇮🇳
But if I absolutely had to choose one…
I would probably pick that samosa I ate in Varanasi.
Nothing fancy. No beautiful restaurant. No elaborate presentation.
Just a simple, hot, perfectly crisp samosa.
Kashi Vishwanath Temple, Varanasi. 🙏
But that first bite did something unexpected.
It reminded me of my hometown.
Of the samosas I had been eating since childhood. The kind of food you grow up with, without ever realising that one day, a simple bite of it might bring back so many memories.
Maybe that’s why it tasted so special.
It wasn’t just a samosa.
For a moment, it felt like home. ❤️
And maybe that’s the magic of food.
You can travel miles away from home, discover new places, try unfamiliar flavours—and then, suddenly, one familiar taste can take you right back to where you started.
We remember the places we visited, the photographs we took and the things we saw.
But sometimes, it’s a smell, a flavour or that first bite that stays with us the longest.
Maybe that’s what I love about travelling.
You go looking for beautiful places, monuments and new experiences…
and sometimes, years later, what you remember most clearly is that one thing you ate somewhere. ❤️
And yes, I do have a picture of one of our thali meals in Varanasi. 😄
One of our meals in Varanasi. 😋
But honestly, I’m usually so busy eating that I completely forget to take pictures of the food. 😂
Maybe that’s why my travel gallery has plenty of roads, rain, clouds, temples and places…
and surprisingly few pictures of the food that I remember so well!
Now tell me—what’s the best local dish you’ve ever eaten while travelling?
Or better yet, what’s that one dish you’d happily travel all over again just to eat? 😄❤️
What’s Something You Wish Schools Actually Taught?
I started thinking about this question and realised something.
Maybe the things I wish schools taught children aren’t meant for schools alone.
Because raising a child has never been a one-person job.
A school can teach equality, respect and consent.
But children also need to see these things being lived around them. Equality cannot be something we explain in a classroom and forget at home. Respect has to be visible. Consent has to be respected even when the answer is inconvenient.
Schools can teach children about money—saving, budgeting, financial planning and becoming independent. But real life gives those lessons meaning.
They can teach children about rejection, failure, jealousy, boundaries and friendships.
But children also need adults who will listen when these things actually happen to them.
And this is where I think we sometimes get it wrong.
We tell children, “If you have a problem, ask for help.”
But perhaps we should teach them something deeper:
You don’t have to carry a problem alone.
Talk to your parent.
Talk to your teacher.
Talk to a counsellor.
Talk to a trusted adult.
And don’t decide beforehand that they won’t understand.
They may not understand everything immediately. You may not even know how to explain it properly.
That’s okay.
Understanding can take time. Speaking up is what gives it a chance to begin.
If one person doesn’t understand, find another.
Keep talking until you find the help you need.
Especially when it comes to bullying.
We can say “Zero tolerance for bullying” a hundred times, but the child being bullied may still be terrified of what happens after they speak.
What if the bully finds out?
What if things get worse?
That fear needs to be understood too.
The child needs to know:
“You don’t have to face this alone. We’ll help you find a way through it.”
And perhaps parents and teachers need to listen before they rush to solve.
Sometimes the child doesn’t need a lecture.
They need someone to sit beside them and say,
“Okay. Tell me what happened.”
Because we are very quick to blame.
The school blames the child.
The parent blames the school.
The child blames someone else.
Everyone looks for someone to hold responsible.
Sometimes the real answer is much simpler:
We all need to look at our part.
And perhaps that’s what education should teach too.
Not just how to become successful, but how to become responsible for ourselves and respectful towards others.
How to respect yourself without disrespecting someone else.
How to disagree without being cruel.
How to say no and respect someone else’s no.
How to make mistakes, accept them and try again.
How to manage money.
How to handle rejection.
How to ask for help.
And how to understand that one closed door is not the end of the journey.
There will be stones on the road.
There will be thorns.
We cannot remove every one of them.
But together, we can teach a child how to move a stone, how to ask for help when a thorn hurts, and how to look for another road when the first one doesn’t work.
People say, “Life will teach you.”
Of course it will.
But preparation doesn’t make the road easy.
It simply makes us less afraid when we reach the difficult parts.
Takeaway
Maybe the question isn’t “What should schools teach?”
Maybe it is:
“What are we teaching children together?”
Because a child learns from the classroom, the home, the people around them—and from the way we live the very lessons we expect them to learn.
We cannot prepare them for every road. But we can make sure they know how to walk one.
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And now I’m curious… what’s one thing you wish someone had taught you before life had to?
Share a photo of your pet and tell us one thing that makes them uniquely them.
Meet Kiwi — the first member of Nihshabd. 🐾🤍 Kiwi is the dog who understands me without words. She came into my life at a time when I needed her the most. And ever since she arrived, somehow, everything good in our home has multiplied.
More laughter. More masti. More cuddles. More love.
The Dog Who Understands Me Without Words 🐾
She has these beautiful little eyes that somehow say everything without saying a word. Kiwi truly is the dog who understands me without words, and maybe that’s why she became the first member of Nihshabd because she understands the language of silence better than anyone.
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But Kiwi is totally different. 😂
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Kiwi Has Her Own Way of Being Brave 😂
For starters, she is the bravest dog I know… until she sees a community dog. 😅
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The moment one appears during our walks, while other pet parents proudly walk past with their dogs barking and showing off their strength, my Kiwi immediately jumps into our lap.
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“Ahhh… I’m safe now.” 😂
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And the moment she feels safely tucked into our arms, her confidence magically returns.
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Safe place secured. Power mode ON. 😅
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When It Comes to Mum, Kiwi Has Rules ❤️
She loves everyone dearly, but when it comes to my lap, there is an ongoing competition between Kiwi and my two sons. 😂
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Then there is her very strict rule:
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Nobody comes too close to Mum.
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Not even my boys.
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Kiwi Wants What the Kids Have 😂
And I’ve learnt one very important thing about her:
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Whatever belongs to my boys, belongs to Kiwi too.
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They get dressed up? She wants to get dressed up. They get a new hairstyle? She wants her hairstyle done. They wear T-shirts? Put one on Kiwi and watch her happiness! 😂
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She genuinely believes she is one of the kids—and honestly, we don’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. ❤️
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She loves her ball, running around, her crazy zoomies and, of course, being pampered.
My Four-Legged Emotional Support System 🐾
But her most special superpower is knowing when my emotional data is running low.
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She somehow senses it.
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She comes over, climbs into my lap, cuddles up and gives me her little hug.
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And just like that…
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Mood restored. ❤️
Some Souls Don’t Need Words 🤍
Kiwi isn’t just our pet.
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She is the jaan (life and soul) of our home, my little happiness package, my four-legged emotional support system and quite possibly the most pampered child in the family. 😂
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Some souls don’t need words.
They just look at you with those eyes, climb into your lap, and somehow say everything.
What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received?
Done Is Better Than Perfect: The Advice That Helped Me Overcome Perfectionism
Done is better than perfect is the best piece of advice I have ever received. It completely changed my creative journey and taught me that overcoming perfectionism isn’t about becoming flawless—it’s about having the courage to begin.
I didn’t learn this lesson from a book or a motivational quote.
I learned it from my mentor… and one imperfect illustration that I almost never shared.
Why I Was Afraid to Share My First Digital Illustration✨
If there is one piece of advice that quietly changed my life, it was this:
“Done is better than perfect.”
When I joined my digital fashion illustration course, I had one tiny problem.
Actually… several tiny problems.
I knew hand illustration.
I knew nothing about Photoshop.
And laptops?
Let’s just say, if technology were a language, I’d still be stuck at A for Apple. 😄
Then came our first digital illustration assignment.
After wrestling with layers, tracing, brushes, and enough confusion to question all my life choices, I somehow managed to create my very first digital portrait.
It wasn’t great.
It wasn’t even “almost great.”
Let’s just say… my portrait and the original model looked like they belonged to two completely different families. 😂
I proudly sent it to my mentor.
She looked at it and said,
“Wonderful. Now post it on social media.”
Excuse me… WHAT?
I immediately replied,
“Ma’am, I can’t! People will laugh. They’ll wonder what exactly I’ve illustrated.”
The Advice That Changed My Perspective✨
That’s when she said something I’ll never forget.
“If you keep waiting for perfection, you’ll miss the entire journey that leads to it.”
She continued,
“Nothing starts perfect. Even ten years from now, you’ll look at your work and find something you’d improve. Perfection isn’t a destination you suddenly reach one day. It’s simply the result of showing up, making mistakes, learning from them, and doing it again.”
And then came the line that stayed with me.
“You can only improve what you’re willing to show.”
This wasn’t perfect. But posting it was the most perfect decision I made.
How I Started Overcoming Perfectionism✨
That day, I understood something.
Perfection doesn’t build confidence.
Action does.
The funny part?
If I had waited until I felt “good enough,” I’d probably still be staring at that same unfinished illustration… while Photoshop continued staring back at me. 😄
Today, when I look at that first design, I smile.
Not because it’s perfect.
But because it exists.
It reminds me that every piece of work I create today began with one imperfect attempt that I almost never shared.
Why Done Is Better Than Perfect✨
Perfection is a moving target.
No matter how experienced we become, there will always be something we’d like to improve.
The real magic isn’t in creating something perfect.
It’s in creating something at all.
Every finished piece teaches us something.
Every imperfect attempt makes us better.
Every mistake becomes a lesson we couldn’t have learned by waiting.
Perfection never arrived. Progress did.
My Biggest Lesson as a Creative✨
So here’s my little reminder for anyone waiting for the “perfect time.”
Post it.
Write it.
Paint it.
Start it.
Because unfinished dreams hidden in drafts never become success stories.
Sometimes, done really is better than perfect.
And for that lesson, I’ll always be grateful to my mentor, who saw possibility in me long before I could see it in myself.
This illustration didn’t build my confidence.
Sharing it did.
Looking at it today, I don’t remember the fear.
I remember the moment I chose progress over perfection.
Now I’m curious… what’s one thing you’ve been waiting to share because you’re afraid it isn’t perfect yet? I’d love to hear your story. 🤍🦋
What’s something you used to worry about but don’t anymore?
WordPress really made me stop and think today.
The Day I Stopped Chasing Butterflies wasn’t a title I planned.
It all began with one simple prompt:
“What’s something you used to worry about but don’t anymore?”
Poor WordPress.
It asked one tiny question…
…but life handed me a much longer answer. 😄
I think being a woman teaches you certain lessons much earlier than you expect. And honestly, not just women—life has a funny way of teaching all of us, whether we signed up for the class or not.
So here’s my little list…
Or maybe not a list.
More like a collection of things I quietly stopped carrying.
I stopped worrying so much about… people.
What will people think?
I spent years editing myself before speaking.
One day I realized most people weren’t even reading my script—they were busy rehearsing their own.
Turns out, people have their own lives, their own problems, and their own endless to-do lists. They’re not running a 24/7 surveillance team dedicated to me.
What a relief. 😄
Making everyone happy.
I tried. Really, I did.
Then I realized it’s like charging everyone’s phone while your own battery is at 2%.
Someone is always going to be unhappy.
These days, if I’m smiling, I call it a successful day.
Outgrowing people.
I used to believe every friendship had to last forever.
Now I know some people are chapters, not the whole book.
They came, they taught me something, and they moved on.
That’s not failure…
That’s life.
I stopped worrying so much about… myself.
There was a time when saying “I don’t know” felt like admitting defeat.
Now it feels like honesty.
Even Google occasionally says, “No results found.” 😄
I also stopped worrying about changing my mind.
If people say, “You’ve changed,” my first thought is…
“I certainly hope so.”
Software that never updates eventually crashes.
Humans aren’t any different.
And don’t even get me started on productivity.
I used to feel guilty for resting.
Now I know even my phone demands to be charged before it starts complaining.
Why should humans be any different?
And finally… I stopped worrying so much about life itself.
Every closed door once felt like the end of the world.
Now I just assume life saved me from walking into the wrong room.
What’s meant for me usually has a funny habit of finding me anyway.
I also made peace with silence.
Earlier, every quiet moment felt awkward.
Now silence often says more than words ever could.
And starting over?
That one doesn’t scare me anymore either.
Beginning again doesn’t mean starting from scratch.
Experience quietly packs its bags and comes along for the ride.
So no matter how many times life says,
“Start again…”
I know I’m never truly starting from zero.
Somewhere along the way…
I learned how to live.
Not because life suddenly became easier.
But because I slowly stopped expecting happiness to arrive one fine morning, ring the doorbell, and politely introduce itself.
I spent years chasing happiness.
Running after people.
Running after approval.
Running after expectations.
Running after that imaginary moment when everything would finally be perfect.
Then one day I realized something that changed everything.
If you want butterflies, you don’t spend your life chasing butterflies. You build a garden where butterflies would want to stay.
Maybe happiness works the same way.
The Day I Stopped Chasing Butterflies 🦋
So instead of chasing everyone and everything, I started creating a life that feels like home to me.
A little embroidery.
A little gardening.
Digital illustration.
Writing.
Music playing in the background.
Dancing in the kitchen while waiting for the tea to boil.
Painting when words aren’t enough.
Getting lost in a good suspense thriller.
Spending unhurried time with my family.
Playing Ludo together and laughing over the silliest things.
Years from now, I don’t think we’ll remember who won the Ludo game… but we’ll definitely remember who was sitting around the board. 🤍
Maybe every home deserves a tiny family ritual.
It doesn’t have to be anything grand.
A board game.
An evening cup of tea.
A short walk.
Even simply a little time together.
Sometimes, the smallest rituals become the biggest memories.
Tiny moments.
Simple joys.
Nothing extraordinary.
Yet somehow…
They make ordinary days feel beautiful.
Maybe that’s what happiness looked like all along.
Does that mean I never worry anymore?
Of course not.
(Okay okay… some things still sting. I’m not a saint. 😛)
But now I know where to return when life becomes too loud.
Sometimes I even wonder…
Have I finally achieved moksha?
Then someone cuts me off in traffic, my Wi-Fi stops working, or an online order gets delayed…
…and I’m immediately reminded—
Nope. Still very much attached to worldly things. 😂
Now I’m curious…
What’s something you used to worry about… but don’t anymore?
Or tell me this…
What do you do to worry a little less… and live a little more?🤍
I’d genuinely love to hear your answer in the comments. 🦋✨
My Top 10 Travel Destinations Aren’t All Marked on a Map
Not every journey begins with a boarding pass, and not every destination can be found on a map.
Some places live only in memory, yet they keep calling us back.
I want to travel to the house where I grew up—
where every wall knew my laughter, every corner hid a childhood adventure, and every evening arrived with the promise of one more game before sunset.
I want to return to my grandmother’s kitchen,
where recipes were whispered, not written, and love always arrived on a warm plate before words did.
I want to lose myself in a little bookstore,
where hours slipped quietly between the pages, and the only deadline was the last chapter.
I want to visit the monsoon afternoons of childhood,
when paper boats believed they could cross oceans, and getting drenched was never considered a mistake.
I want to find the terrace beneath a sky full of stars,
where electricity cuts felt less like an inconvenience and more like an invitation to count constellations that we never really knew the names of.
I want to walk again through the narrow lanes
where every neighbour knew my name, every festival belonged to everyone, and every door felt a little like home.
I want to sit once more beneath the old tree
that heard my secrets, celebrated my victories, and patiently watched my impossible dreams grow taller than its branches.
I want to spend one more carefree summer,
where mangoes stained our hands, icy treats coloured our tongues, and happiness cost less than a handful of coins.
I want to stand beside the sea,
not to watch the waves, but to watch myself forget the urge to check the time.
And above all,
I want to meet the version of myself 🦋 I left behind somewhere—
the one who laughed without worrying who was watching, trusted without hesitation, dreamed without calculating, and believed that tomorrow would always wait.
Perhaps the greatest destinations are not countries or cities.
They are forgotten afternoons, unfinished conversations, the fragrance of home, the warmth of familiar hands, and the pieces of ourselves we spend a lifetime trying to find again.
Because the most unforgettable journeys don’t always require a passport.
Sometimes, they simply ask us to close our eyes… and remember.🦋✨
