When I Needed You the Most, Papa.

Sometimes, the heart remembers what the mind never learned to hold.

That little girl still lives inside me,

the one who searches for her father whenever life becomes too heavy to breathe.

Whenever the world feels too loud, too cruel, too lonely.

And yet, the truth is painful…

From childhood, I was never emotionally attached to him.

We lived under the same roof, but not in the same emotional space.

There were silences instead of conversations, distance instead of warmth.

I never learned how to reach for him when I needed comfort.

But life has a strange way of revealing what the heart has been hiding.

Today, when I am broken mentally, physically, financially, emotionally,

the only name my soul calls out, unconsciously, is “Papa.”

On 19th January, I went through my last PRP transplant.

As the doctors shifted me from the operation theatre to the ICU,

my consciousness was fading…

but my heart was awake.

I wasn’t calling the doctors.

I wasn’t calling my friends.

I wasn’t even calling God.

I was calling Papa.

I held my cousin brother’s hand tightly

not as a sister,

but as a daughter who needed her father.

In that moment, his hand felt like my father’s hand.

Safe. Strong. Familiar.

Later, when my cousin sent me the picture he had clicked in that moment,

my heart shattered into silent pieces.

There I was vulnerable, unconscious,

still searching for the man I once stayed away from.

“When they are here, we ignore them.

When they leave, we search for them in our prayers.”

When my father was alive,

I kept my distance.

I didn’t understand the value of his presence.

I didn’t feel the need to lean on him.

But today…

I need him the most.

Not for money.

Not for solutions.

Just for his presence.

For his voice.

For the comfort only a father can give.

“Some relationships are understood only through loss.”

They say,

“You only realize someone’s importance when they are gone.”

And now I understand how painfully true that is.

Because even though I was never emotionally close to him,

my soul still knows where to run when it is tired.

It runs to Papa.

Maybe love doesn’t always show itself loudly.

Maybe some bonds stay quiet, hidden, unfinished.

But when life breaks you,

those unfinished bonds come back to hold you.

And today,

I hold onto his memory

the way I once held my cousin’s hand in the ICU as if I were holding my father’s.

“Not all love is expressed.

Some love is only felt in the deepest pain.”

Book Review: October Junction — A Quiet Symphony of Life, Love & Becoming

October Junction by Divya Prakash Dubey is a novel that lives softly in your mind long after you’ve turned the last page. Not a loud or dramatic story, it’s one of those rare books that feels like a familiar sigh of poignant without exaggeration, gentle yet reflective, and deeply humane. It’s a book about people, choices, time, and the curious intersections that shape our inner lives.

The Heart of the Story

At its core, October Junction tracks the relationship between two individuals Chitra and Sudeep, who first meet by chance in the timeless city of Banaras on 10 October 2010, and then continue to meet every year on that same date for a decade. It’s not a conventional romance, and yet it is thoroughly a story about love, though not the kind that cinema often depicts. Instead, it is a meditation on companionship, evolving ambitions, and the quiet ways in which two lives can remain connected without labels.

Sudeep and Chitra are ordinary in their aspirations and yet extraordinary in the way they inhabit time together. One becomes a successful entrepreneur, the other blossoms into a well-known writer, and through all the transformations of career, identity, success, and disappointment, they keep returning to their October 10 meeting their junction in time. 

Writing Style: Simple yet Deep

Divya Prakash Dubey’s prose are written in his characteristic “new hindi” and feels like a conversation with a friend. It’s unpretentious and avoids literary showmanship, yet it is emotionally incisive and full of genuine insight. He deals with universal themes of ambition, love, identity, regret, and hope and using language that is wonderfully accessible for both seasoned readers and newcomers to Hindi literature. 

What seems simple on the surface has layers beneath. The narrative doesn’t rush; instead, it drifts like autumnal Banaras fog, encouraging the reader to pause, reflect, and feel. Everyday dialogues become carriers of deeper meanings and about what we choose, what we leave behind, and how we reconcile the life we live with the life we dreamed of. 

Themes and Emotional Resonance

One of the most striking aspects of October Junction is how it defies clear categorization. Is it a love story? Yes, but it’s also a story about goals and compromises. Is it a tale of two lives intersecting? Yes, but it’s also about how individuals grow while carrying parts of each other within themselves. This duality of separation and attachment, of choice and chance, is at the heart of the novel’s emotional power. 

The StoryGraph

The structure itself is meeting once every year acts as a kind of emotional calendar. In each chapter we see subtle shifts: in Sudeep’s ambitions, in Chitra’s insecurities, in the way silence becomes as significant as speech. The author does not rush to wrap up everything neatly; instead, he invites readers to linger in the in-between spaces of thought and feeling. 

Characters: Real and Relatable

What makes Chitra and Sudeep feel so real is not extraordinary behavior but their ordinariness of their hopes, their self-doubt, their contradictions. Sudeep’s entrepreneurial zeal contrasts with Chitra’s artistic vulnerability, yet both characters find in each other not rivalry, but resonance. Their annual ritual of meeting becomes less about romance and more about remembering why they chose who they chose not just once, but repeatedly. 

The story doesn’t spell everything out. Some readers may yearn for dramatic twists or definitive closures, but the narrative’s strength lies in what is felt between the lines. The quiet spaces, the pauses, the unspoken possibilities of these are what make the characters linger in one’s thoughts long after the book is closed.

Pace and Atmosphere

If you enjoy fast-paced plots with constant action, October Junction might feel slow at times. But the deliberate pacing is intentional. It mirrors how real relationships sometimes evolves not with fireworks, but with tender shifts in understanding, moments of silence, and accumulation of shared memories. Banaras itself, with its timelessness and layered history, plays a subtle yet unmistakable role in shaping the ambience of the novel. 

Final Thoughts

October Junction is more than a story. It’s an experience. It invites the reader to sit with its characters, observe their evolution, and reflect on one’s own junctions of time and choice. It carries both nostalgia and a quiet urgency and urging us to cherish what we have, recognize what we seek, and understand that some intersections in life, even if brief and annually can become deeply transformative.

This novel may not offer dramatic crescendos, but it offers something perhaps rarer: an honest mirror to the ordinary poetry of living. It’s a book to be savored slowly, like the first cup of chai on a misty morning, and remembered like a song that plays softly long after it has ended. 

December

This December was totally different.

People often say January lets you dream and December shows you reality — and this year, reality hit differently. I lost and gained all at once. I realized that sometimes you find family not through blood, but through the simple truth of your existence.

My guru once told me, “Be true to your art form. It will give you everything.”

And today, as 2025 comes to an end, I can finally say — he was right.

My art, my passion, my existence… they have brought some extraordinary people into my life.

People questioned me often —

“Why do you always choose them over your own well-being?”

I never had an answer.

But when life slowed me down…

When I found myself in a moment where pain was loud and escape was impossible…

They were the ones who stayed.

Trying to make the pain feel lighter,

Trying to make me feel safe,

To remind me that I don’t have to fight alone.

Today, I know the answer —

I chose them, because they chose me first.

Not for what I do, but for who I am.

And that kind of bond… that’s the rarest kind of blessing December could ever reveal.

Here’s to endings that heal us,

To people who stay,

And to art that keeps giving life back to us… always. ✨💛

Forever wala forever ♾️

There are friends… and then there are those who become a part of your soul.

The ones who walk beside you not ahead, not behind just beside, quietly reminding you that you’re never alone.

Dosti sirf waqt bitane ka zariya nahi,

yeh woh rishta hai jo waqt ke saath aur gehra hota jata hai.

They are the silence between your words,

the laughter after your breakdowns,

the calm in your chaos.

We don’t always talk every day,

we don’t always share everything but when life gets heavy,

one message, one glance, one walk together…

and suddenly, everything feels okay again.

Kuch rishton mein likha nahi hota ‘forever’,

par wo hamesha dil ke paas rehte hain.

Here’s to the friends who stayed not just because they had to,

but because they chose to. 🤍

A Soulful Afternoon at Parmat’s Anandeshwar Mandir, Kanpur

During my recent visit to Kanpur, I took some time to explore one of the city’s most revered spiritual sites — Anandeshwar Mandir, located at Parmat on the banks of the sacred Ganga. Though I’ve read and heard about its serenity before, being there in person was an entirely different experience — one that left me calm, reflective, and quietly inspired.

It was a Monday afternoon when I visited, accompanied by my cousin and one of his friends. Mondays, being special for Lord Shiva devotees, are naturally busier than usual days. As expected, the temple was filled with devotees carrying small kalash of Ganga jal, flowers, and offerings. The air was thick with the sound of bells, chants, and the fragrance of incense. Despite the rush, there was a sense of discipline and deep devotion that somehow made the place feel peaceful rather than crowded.

The Anandeshwar Mandir is dedicated to Lord Shiva, and according to local legend, the Shivling here emerged naturally from the earth. Standing before it, I could sense the faith of countless devotees who have come here for generations, seeking blessings and inner peace. The sanctum glowed with the light of flickering diyas, and the chanting of “Om Namah Shivaya” seemed to echo through every corner of the temple. Surrounding the main shrine are smaller temples dedicated to Parvati, Ganesha, and Kartikeya, completing the divine family.

After offering my prayers, we walked towards the nearby Ganga ghat, just a few steps away from the temple. The gentle breeze from the river and the golden rays of the afternoon sun reflected beautifully on the water. Sitting there for a few minutes, I watched people performing rituals, lighting diyas, and talking in soft voices. There was something incredibly grounding about the moment of the coexistence of chaos and calm, faith and everyday life.

If you plan to visit, I’d suggest going either early morning or late afternoon to truly absorb the temple’s atmosphere. However, Mondays, especially during the Shravan month, bring a different kind of energy, vibrant, crowded, yet full of spirit and faith. It’s a sight worth experiencing at least once.

As we left the temple, the bells were still ringing, and the sound of the Ganga followed us back through the narrow lanes. That afternoon at Anandeshwar Mandir reminded me that spirituality isn’t always about grandeur sometimes, it’s about small moments of silence and connection that stay within you long after you’ve left.

UNWANTED CLOSURE..

Some chapters close quietly, without warning or final words, and some connections simply fade with time because life moves us in different directions. And that's okay.

I'm learning to accept that not everything ends with closure, not every bond lasts forever. It's hard, especially for someone like me who's never been good at letting go. I hold on too tightly, even when the weight becomes too much.

But I'm beginning to understand that peace can come not from holding on, but from allowing things to end gently, without resistance.

Book Review: The Art of Being Alone by Renuka Gavrani

Book Review: The Art of Being Alone by Renuka Gavrani 

Rating: ★★★★☆ (4/5) 

Gavrani, in The Art of Being Alone, provides beautifully crafted prose and her heartfelt reflections presenting solitude not as emptiness but as an opportunity for rediscovery. She serves a gentle yet powerful reminder of what inner growth and healing is, restoring one’s self.  

This book promises to provide solace to those struggling with loneliness or seeking comfort in solitude. One of my favorites in the book: “You are not alone because you are unloved; you are alone because you need to love yourself first.” Lines like these make profound impact given the context of the fast-paced modern world where stillness is often misconstrued as dreadful.  

Silence – Gavrani encourages the acceptance of silence as strength, not a weakness. “In the quiet, you will meet the version of yourself you were too busy to notice,” she states, bringing comfort yet a transformative perspective to her readers.  

Emotional independence, renewing one’s self, healing from within, personal boundaries, and embracing the beauty of solitude are some of the predominant themes in the book. It is a wonderful companion for those reflective rainy days and serene nights.  

This gentle guidebook fosters tender positivity towards solitude, loneliness, stillness, and promotes self-reflection. In short, it is an inspiring ode towards self-love. Anyone struggling to deepen their connection with the self should truly read this work of art.