Children are NOT our Fixed Deposits

In the past week alone, we’ve lost too many young lives. Children who should have been laughing, learning, arguing, dreaming - all gone. It forces us to stop in our tracks and ask ourselves where are we going wrong? How are we still failing to see the storms our children are carrying quietly inside their minds and hearts? How are we ignoring the signs that they feel alone and need to be heard?

We need to look at the world we are creating around our children. The pressure does not just come from parents, but from everywhere around - the condo moms comparing marks like they compare recipes, from cousins competing as if childhood is a race, from social circles where a child’s score becomes casual gossip over chai. Why have we normalised turning children into talking points? Why must their achievements validate our pride? We need to stop this cycle asap as this silent, socially accepted pressure crushes young spirits long before they get a chance to grow. Our children deserve freedom from our expectations, not the burden of them.

Children are not our fixed deposits for the future. We cannot put the weight of our dreams on our children. Parenting cannot be transactional. "We did so much for you, now you have to do your best"/ Their worth cannot be measured in marks, medals, or milestones. Our expectations should never outweigh their emotional safety.

As parents, we must tell our children again and again that perfection is not the goal. That success is not the only path. That what matters is the courage to try, the resilience to stand up, and the freedom to move at a pace that they are comfortable with. 

It is okay to be imperfect.
It is okay to score badly.
It is okay to fail.
It is okay to
It is never okay for a child to feel unloved, unheard, or unseen.

We need to build homes where children can breathe. Where they can speak without fear, break down without shame, and grow without the crushing weight of expectations. Homes where they know deeply and unquestionably that their life is worth more than any dream we hold for them.

No rank, no report card, no ambition is worth a life.

Let us choose empathy over expectations.
Humanity over pressure.
Presence over perfection.

Every single time. Please. 

(Image generated using Gemini)

Pain, Perseverance, and Pumpkin Latte

A night etched in my memory; one I will never forget.

Their arms steadied me, lifting me from the bed. I instinctively locked mine around their shoulders for balance. Together, they carried me to the car. As its tires screeched through the stillness of the night, my thoughts raced. Was this the end of everything I’d come here for?

The darkness wrapped around us. A&E (Accident & Emergency services) in Brighton stirred memories of Civil Hospital, Sonipat, where papa—who left us 14 years ago—once served as a doctor. The polished floors and white faces were the only differences. As Mohit handled my registration, I silently cursed my choice to skip travel insurance. Who even does that on an international trip?

Between deep breaths and sharp pangs, I explained to the staff how I’d tripped over the raised bathroom doorframe in my hotel. My left foot throbbed incessantly.

The hours in A&E unravelled a floodgate of emotions. I missed papa. I missed my son, Maulik - the only one in India who knew I was hurt. Guilt gnawed at me for waking Mohit in the dead of night. And then there was Abid, their employee, who was the first respondent to my cry for help. His calmness steadied my tears, his jokes – usually annoying – were a lifeboat.

In the hotel room, after the accident, while applying ice to my injured foot, Abid suddenly froze, his eyes wide as he stared at the wall behind my bed. “Oh my God,” he exclaimed. I followed his gaze to a painting of a woman with her foot perched on a pillow, eerily mimicking my position. “Did someone paint you before I arrived?” he joked. “Yes, Leo (Leonardo Di Caprio) was here to paint his Kate (Winslet),” I quipped back. We burst into laughter, and for a moment, the pain and absurdity faded.

(that painting on the wall)

Back in the A&E the night dragged on. Worry churned - about treatment costs, deadlines, and the impractical new heels I’d bought. My foot swelled with every passing hour, and my heart mirrored its urgency.

Picture this: I had flown to the UK to manage a company’s event, only to be in an accident, just three days before the big day. Mohit, the company’s founder, sat beside me, patiently waiting for X-ray results, and enduring seven hours on a rickety chair before wheeling me in himself.

After two hours, finally, relief came. “It’s not a fracture,” the doctor announced. The pain? I could manage. Uncertainty had been the real weight.

Back at the hotel, I spent the next day confined to my room, oscillating between prayers, quiet meals, and event planning. By evening, I decided it was time to reclaim control. Summoning courage, I willed myself to stand. Tears fell uncontrollably as I silenced both pain and emotion with a piece of chocolate - an absurd but effective balm.

The challenge was set. A Danish from M&S at Brighton Station. Just a few steps away, yet it felt like a marathon. I dragged myself, dodging sympathetic glances and polite offers of help. A bite of delight was more than a treat. It was a win. To celebrate, I perched at the hotel café with a pumpkin latte in hand. The warmth of the coffee, the hum of the café, the faint ache in my foot - it all amalgamated into the realisation that resilience isn’t loud. It’s the quiet choice to keep going.

When the big day arrived, I was tapping in my heels, moving as if the pain were endurable. The joy of overcoming, of succeeding despite the odds - had overpowered it all.

Resilience often begins as a whisper in the dark, growing louder with every small victory. That night in Brighton taught me this: joy, determination, and a damn good cup of coffee can get you through anything.

Lessons from the series 'House M.D.'

 I usually scoff at ‘lessons to learn from’ posts and articles, but here I am with my own. After binge-watching House M.D., I found valuable takeaways from those hundreds of episodes.

1. Mastery Over Mediocrity: Trying to be a ‘Jack of all trades’ can be detrimental. Focusing on mastering one skill can help you rise above the mediocrity which plagues workplaces.

2. Question Everything: We often take people and commitments at face value. However, it’s crucial to ask questions, evaluate authenticity, and not accept everything that is presented. Dr. House’s mantra, ‘everybody lies,’ has stuck with me.

3. The Power of Delegation: Delegation is a powerful tool. It reduces unnecessary distractions, helps you focus on what’s important, and allows for better planning and outcomes. I’m learning to embrace this.

4. Stress Management: I’ve started using a stress ball, and it has been incredibly helpful in disengaging from intrusive thoughts and improving my focus.

5. Self-Worth Over Approval: Dr. House’s unapologetic approach to his work is a big lesson that true self-worth comes from within and is not dependent on the validation of others. People will recognize and value your expertise because it is grounded in genuine skill and unwavering commitment, not in a desire to please.
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Let them fly and see them soar

  

In your vacant room, the lights are always on   

But there is no one calling for food

And as the door is always ajar

I miss screaming, ‘open’ after knocking a couple of times  

The kitchen is boring

Food just fills the tummy

And as the refrigerator door waits forever to be opened

Everything inside is frozen, just like this lonely heart

Days are so dull without those pick and drop duties

Nights were always long, but this silence is unbearably eerie

And while the nest, as they say, is empty now

The heart is full of gratitude and fulfilment

I read somewhere that empty nest syndrome has three stages, grief, relief, and joy. A phase of grief is understandable, with the feeling of sadness or loneliness. I guess relief hits when we move on to develop a new pattern in life or start doing new things. And once the roller-coaster of gloom is over, there is joy.

I guess I am lucky to have moved into the third phase in no time, or so I feel. And that came from a strong realization that every relationship need not be a grip or a possession. Letting go and still feeling that magnetic pull is a surreal emotion to experience. Sitting miles apart and yet knowing when he smiles or when he is low, is an incredible skill I am growing.

Now I am no stone. There are moments when even I feel I may go down, but then a lazy weekend smiles and says, ‘sleep as much, for no one needs you to be up’, and I cannot deny. Plus, if I use this newfound time for self-care well, I may just become the next Miss Universe. But I guess the most satisfying part is just sitting still and letting memories scroll in slow motion and you pause and smile when the best of your moments together are playing.

Let them fly and see them soar.