The Many Languages of Love — And What a Lifetime Taught Me About Them

For most of my life, I thought love was something we simply understood.

Perhaps that was my first mistake.

I believed that if two people loved each other, they would naturally know what the other needed. I thought love would make us patient, considerate and kind. I thought it would teach us how to reach across our differences.

Life taught me otherwise.

Sometimes two people can live under the same roof for years and still speak completely different languages of love.

I came to understand this much later than I wish I had.

There are, apparently, five recognised love languages — words of affirmation, quality time, acts of service, gifts and physical touch. The idea is simple: people give and receive love differently.

And when I look back at my own life, I can see how much misunderstanding can happen when two people are speaking different languages without even realising it.

Words Can Be Love — And Words Can Also Wound

Some people need words.

They need to hear, “I love you,” “I am proud of you,” “Thank you,” “You matter to me.”

I understand that now.

Words can be tiny things, but they can stay with us for years.

So can the absence of them.

A person can spend decades doing things for a family and still quietly wonder, Did anybody ever notice? Did anybody ever appreciate what I gave?

And then there are words of another kind — criticism, sarcasm, insults, dismissive remarks, words spoken in anger and sometimes repeated so often that they begin to feel like a person’s identity.

I have learned that words are never “just words.”

They can build a person.

They can break one.

And once spoken, some of them cannot be completely taken back.

Sometimes Love Looks Like Doing

There are people who don’t say much but show their love by doing things.

They cook.

They work.

They provide.

They solve problems.

They remember what everyone else has forgotten.

For years, many of us simply get on with what needs to be done. We don’t necessarily call it love. It is just what we do.

But there is a danger in this kind of love.

When something is done repeatedly for years, people can stop seeing it as an act of love and start seeing it as an obligation.

That is when gratitude slowly disappears.

And when gratitude disappears, resentment often walks quietly in through the back door.

Perhaps one of the simplest ways of keeping love alive is to notice.

To say:

“I know what you do.”

“Thank you.”

“I couldn’t have managed without you.”

Those words cost nothing.

Yet they can mean everything.

Time Is Perhaps the Most Precious Gift

Looking back, I think quality time is one of the most misunderstood forms of love.

Being in the same house is not necessarily spending time together.

Sitting beside someone while each person is absorbed in a different world is not necessarily closeness.

Sometimes what we really want is someone’s undivided attention.

A conversation.

A cup of tea together.

A walk.

A shared laugh.

Someone asking, “How are you?” and actually waiting for the answer.

It doesn’t have to be grand.

Fifteen genuine minutes can sometimes mean more than an expensive holiday.

Because what we are really asking for is not time.

It is presence.

Gifts Are About Being Remembered

I have never believed that love can be measured by the price of a gift.

A small thing chosen because someone remembered what you like can be worth much more than something expensive bought without thought.

A favourite sweet.

A book.

A flower.

A photograph.

Something that says, I saw this  and thought of you.

That is what makes a gift precious.

But gifts cannot substitute for kindness.

Nor can they erase disrespect.

There are some wounds that no material thing can cover.

And Then There Is Touch

Perhaps the most basic human language of all is touch.

A hug.

A hand held.

A reassuring touch on the shoulder.

A kiss on the forehead.

Sometimes we don’t need advice. We don’t need explanations. We don’t need someone to solve anything.

We simply need to feel that somebody is there.

And perhaps that is why the absence of affection can leave such a strange emptiness.

You can be surrounded by people and still feel untouched.

You can be needed and still not feel cherished.

You can have a family and still long for the simple comfort of being held.

I have come to understand that wanting affection does not make a person needy or weak.

It makes them human.

The Problem Is That We Often Give the Love We Know How to Give

This may be the biggest lesson of all.

One person may show love by working hard and providing.

Another may need words.

One may want conversation.

Another may show affection by doing things.

One may crave physical closeness.

Another may believe that giving space is a sign of love.

And both may sincerely believe they are trying.

That is where relationships can become painfully complicated.

We keep giving what we would like to receive.

And then wonder why the other person still feels unloved.

Perhaps the answer is to learn another language.

Not abandon our own.

Just learn theirs.

If someone needs appreciation, give it.

If they need time, make time.

If they value small gestures, remember them.

If they need affection, offer it — when it is welcome.

And, importantly, tell them what you need too.

Don’t make people guess.

Say:

“I need you to listen to me.”

“I would like us to spend some time together.”

“I need appreciation sometimes.”

“I miss affection.”

“I need you to speak to me with respect.”

There is no shame in asking for what makes us feel loved.

But There Is a Limit to What Love Languages Can Fix

This is something I wish people talked about more.

Love languages are useful when two people genuinely care about each other but express affection differently.

They cannot solve everything.

They cannot make a disrespectful person respectful.

They cannot turn cruelty into kindness.

They cannot make someone care simply because we have finally explained our needs perfectly.

And they cannot require one person to keep giving endlessly while receiving very little in return.

There comes a point when understanding another person should not mean abandoning ourselves.

Sometimes the healthiest workaround is not to keep trying to change someone.

It is to change our expectations.

To stop waiting for a particular kind of affection from someone who has shown, repeatedly, that they are unlikely to give it.

That can be a painful realisation.

But sometimes accepting reality is less painful than spending another twenty years arguing with it.

Perhaps There Is Another Love Language — Respect

If I could add another language to the list, I would call it respect.

Because what good are words of affection if they are followed by humiliation?

What good are gifts if there is no consideration?

What good is spending time together if one person constantly makes the other feel small?

Respect is what gives the other love languages their meaning.

It says:

I may disagree with you, but I will not demean you.

I may be angry, but I will not deliberately hurt you.

I know you are a separate human being with your own thoughts, feelings and dignity.

That, to me, is love in its most mature form.

And Perhaps There Is One More — Repair

No relationship is perfect.

People lose their tempers.

They misunderstand.

They forget.

They hurt each other.

The difference is what happens afterwards.

Can someone say, “I was wrong”?

Can they say, “I hurt you”?

Can they apologise without immediately finding someone else to blame?

More importantly, can they change their behaviour?

Because an apology without change eventually becomes another form of repetition.

Real love is not the absence of mistakes.

It is the willingness to repair the damage.

What I Know Now

After a lifetime of relationships, I no longer believe that love is simply a feeling.

Feelings come and go.

Love, when it is healthy, is also behaviour.

It is how we speak to each other.

How we listen.

How we disagree.

How we touch.

How we notice.

How we forgive.

How we apologise.

How we allow another person to remain themselves.

And perhaps most importantly, how we make them feel when nobody else is watching.

I have learned that we should not spend our entire lives trying to convince someone to love us in the way we need.

Sometimes we need to explain.

Sometimes we need to compromise.

Sometimes we need to learn another person’s language.

But we must also listen to our own.

Because our needs matter too.

And if there is one thing I would tell anyone beginning a relationship today, it would be this:

Don’t only ask, “Does this person love me?”

Ask:

“How do they make me feel?”

Do I feel safe?

Do I feel respected?

Do I feel heard?

Can I be myself?

Can I make a mistake without being made to feel worthless?

Can I grow without being controlled?

Can I speak without being afraid?

Can I receive affection without having to beg for it?

Because love is not merely about having someone beside you.

It is about feeling that, beside that person, you are still allowed to be fully human.

And perhaps that is the language we all understand, regardless of which love language we speak.

Love Has Many Languages — And Sometimes We Are Speaking the Wrong One

We all want to be loved. That much is simple.

What is not simple is understanding what love looks like to another person.

One person may say, “I love you” every day. Another may never say those words but will quietly make sure you have eaten, reached home safely, or have your favourite tea waiting for you. Someone may want to hold your hand, while someone else believes that giving you space is the greatest sign of respect.

And this is where relationships sometimes go wrong.

We may be loved, yet still feel unloved.

The idea of love languages, popularised by Gary Chapman, suggests that people tend to give and receive love in different ways. The five commonly described are words of affirmation, quality time, acts of service, gifts, and physical touch.

But I think there is something important missing from the way we usually talk about them.

Love languages are not rigid boxes. They are clues.

Words of Affirmation

Some people need to hear appreciation.

“I am proud of you.”

“Thank you.”

“You look lovely.”

“I missed you.”

“I am here for you.”

These may seem like small sentences to the person saying them, but to someone who receives love through words, they can mean everything.

The opposite is also true. Constant criticism, sarcasm, humiliation or dismissive remarks can slowly erode a person’s sense of being valued.

The workaround is simple: say the good things that you normally assume the other person already knows.

We often think, Of course they know I love them.

Perhaps they don’t.

Quality Time

For some people, love means being present.

Not necessarily an expensive dinner or a holiday. Sometimes it is simply sitting together, drinking tea, watching a film, taking a walk, or talking without constantly looking at a phone.

Quality time is not merely physical proximity. Two people can sit in the same room for hours and still feel completely alone.

The workaround?

Create small islands of undivided attention.

Even fifteen minutes of genuine conversation can sometimes do more for a relationship than an entire day spent together without connection.

Acts of Service

Some people express love by doing.

They cook. They remember appointments. They fix things. They run errands. They make sure everyone has what they need.

Their way of saying “I love you” may be, Have you eaten?

But there is a danger here.

Acts of service can become invisible when they are repeated for years. What was once appreciated becomes an expectation.

And when the work is never acknowledged, resentment quietly takes its place.

The workaround is recognition.

A simple “I noticed what you did. Thank you” can prevent a great deal of emotional wear and tear.

And equally important: don’t confuse helping someone with controlling them.

Love should lighten another person’s life, not make them feel indebted.

Gifts

For some, receiving a thoughtful gift is deeply meaningful.

It isn’t necessarily about money.

It may be a book someone remembered you wanted, a flower picked on the way home, a favourite sweet, or even a photograph kept because it reminded someone of you.

The meaning is in the thought.

But gifts become meaningless when they are used to compensate for neglect, disrespect or emotional absence.

A diamond cannot repair what an apology and changed behaviour could.

The workaround is to make gifts personal rather than expensive.

Ask yourself, What would make this person feel remembered?

That is where the real gift lies.

Physical Touch

For some people, affection is communicated through touch.

A hug.

A hand held while walking.

A kiss on the forehead.

A reassuring touch on the shoulder.

Physical affection can communicate something words sometimes cannot: You are safe with me. You matter to me. I am here.

But physical touch has to be mutual and respectful. Nobody owes another person physical affection simply because they are in a relationship.

The workaround is communication.

Ask.

“Can I hug you?”

“Would you like me to sit beside you?”

Sometimes the smallest question creates the greatest sense of safety.

The Real Problem: We Often Give Love the Way We Want to Receive It

This, perhaps, is where many relationships stumble.

A person who values acts of service may spend the whole day doing things for their partner and wonder why the partner still complains.

The partner may be thinking, I don’t need you to do things for me. I need you to talk to me.

One gives.

The other waits.

Both feel they are trying.

Both feel unappreciated.

Neither understands what the other is asking for.

It is almost as if they are speaking two different languages.

So What Can We Do?

Perhaps the answer is not to find one perfect love language.

Perhaps the answer is to become bilingual in love.

Learn what makes the other person feel valued, even if it isn’t the way you naturally express affection.

And tell them what makes you feel valued.

Don’t expect people to read minds.

Instead of saying:

“You don’t care about me.”

Try:

“I feel much closer to you when we spend some uninterrupted time together.”

Instead of:

“You never appreciate anything I do.”

Try:

“When you acknowledge what I do, it makes me feel valued.”

Instead of:

“You never touch me.”

Try:

“I miss physical affection. A hug sometimes would mean a lot to me.”

These changes may sound insignificant, but they remove accusation from the conversation and replace it with information.

And What If the Other Person Doesn’t Change?

This is where love languages have their limits.

Knowing someone’s love language does not mean we can make them loving.

Understanding someone does not require us to tolerate disrespect.

Communication cannot repair a relationship if only one person is willing to communicate.

Sometimes the workaround is not changing the other person.

Sometimes it is changing what we expect from them.

We can stop waiting for a particular kind of love from someone who has repeatedly shown that they cannot or will not give it.

That doesn’t mean becoming bitter.

It means becoming realistic.

We can appreciate what someone is capable of giving without pretending that it is everything we need.

And sometimes we need to find emotional nourishment elsewhere — through friendships, children, siblings, community, meaningful work, hobbies, books, music, nature, spirituality, or simply through developing a kinder relationship with ourselves.

Because no single relationship should be expected to provide every form of emotional fulfilment.

Perhaps There Is a Sixth Love Language

I sometimes think there should be a sixth love language:

Respect.

Because without respect, the other five can become hollow.

You can give someone gifts and still belittle them.

You can perform acts of service and still control them.

You can spend hours together and still make them feel lonely.

You can say “I love you” and still hurt them repeatedly.

Real love needs something underneath all the languages:

I see you.

I hear you.

I value you.

I will not deliberately make you feel small.

And perhaps another important language is repair.

We are all going to get things wrong. We will say the wrong words, forget important dates, lose patience and misunderstand each other.

Healthy elationships are not those without mistakes.

They are relationships where someone can say:

“I was wrong.”

“I hurt you.”

“I am sorry.”

“I will try to do better.”

And then actually do better.

Love Is Not Only About Being Loved

Perhaps the greatest lesson is that love is not merely about asking:

“Does this person love me?”

It is also asking:

“How does this person experience my love?”

And equally:

“How do I experience theirs?”

Sometimes the love is there, but it is hidden behind different languages.

Sometimes we need to translate.

Sometimes we need to teach each other.

Sometimes we need to compromise.

And sometimes, despite all our efforts, we discover that what we call love is not giving us the kindness, respect or emotional safety that we need.

That discovery can be painful.

But it can also be liberating.

Because understanding love languages should never be about teaching ourselves to accept crumbs simply because they are being offered in someone’s preferred language.

It should be about learning to give love more thoughtfully, receive it more consciously, communicate our needs more clearly, and recognise the difference between love that is imperfect and love that is consistently harmful.

After all, love is not a language we learn once.

It is a conversation we keep having throughout our lives.

The Memories We Carry

Memories are strange things.

Some of them stay with us for years without making any noise. A particular smell suddenly reminds us of our childhood. An old song takes us back to a place we haven't thought about in years. Sometimes, even a simple road, a photograph, or someone's voice can open a door to the past.

And suddenly, we are there again.

We may have grown older, moved to another city, met new people, and built a completely different life, but some part of us is still sitting in that old classroom, standing at that railway station, laughing with an old friend, or saying goodbye to someone we loved.

That is the power of memories.

Memories are more than records of things that happened to us. In many ways, they become part of who we are. They shape the way we see people, relationships, success, failure, love, and even ourselves.

Some memories give us strength.

Think about a difficult period in your life that you somehow managed to get through. Years later, when another difficult situation comes along, you may remember that time and think, “I survived that. I can survive this too.”

That memory becomes a quiet source of courage.

The same thing happens with happy memories. A childhood afternoon spent playing with friends, a family celebration, a teacher who believed in us, our first achievement, or even a simple conversation with someone we loved can remain with us long after the moment itself has disappeared.

We cannot go back to those moments, but we can revisit them in our minds.

Sometimes that is enough to make a difficult day feel a little lighter.

But memories are not always kind.

Some memories hurt.

A broken friendship. A failed relationship. A mistake we wish we could undo. The loss of someone we loved. Words someone said to us that we never forgot. A missed opportunity. A moment when we disappointed ourselves.

The strange thing about painful memories is that the event may have lasted only a few minutes, but our mind can replay it for years.

We remember what was said.

We remember what we should have said.

We imagine what might have happened if we had made a different choice.

And sometimes we punish ourselves with the same memory again and again.

This is where memories can become a burden.

There are people who spend years living in a moment that has already ended. They carry an old betrayal into every new relationship. They carry an old failure into every new opportunity. They allow something that happened five or ten years ago to decide what they believe about themselves today.

A person who was once rejected may start believing they are not worthy of love.

Someone who failed an exam may begin believing they are not intelligent.

Someone who was betrayed may decide that nobody can ever be trusted.

But a memory is not always the truth.

It is our recollection of the truth, shaped by our emotions, our age, and the way we understood things at that time.

We often remember how something made us feel more strongly than what actually happened.

That is why two people can experience the same event and remember it completely differently.

This is also why we should be careful about allowing our memories to control our present.

The past deserves to be remembered, but it does not always deserve to be obeyed.

There is something else we often forget: we are allowed to change the meaning of our memories.

Imagine someone who failed badly at something they cared about. For years, they might think of that failure as proof that they were not good enough. But later, they may look back and realize that failure taught them discipline, patience, or humility.

The event didn't change.

The meaning of it did.

What once felt like the end of the world may eventually become one of the experiences that shaped them into a stronger person.

This doesn't mean that we should pretend painful things didn't happen. Healing is not about erasing the past or forcing ourselves to call everything a “lesson.”6

Some things genuinely hurt.

Some losses never completely stop hurting.

Sometimes we simply learn how to carry them differently.

And perhaps that is what growing older really means—not forgetting the past, but learning where to place it.

We don't have to hold onto every memory.

Some memories deserve a place in our hearts because they remind us of people we loved, places we belonged, or moments when we felt truly alive.

Other memories can be acknowledged and then released.

Letting go doesn't mean saying, “It didn't matter.”

Sometimes letting go means saying, “It mattered, but it doesn't have to control me anymore.”

That distinction can change a person's life.

We can keep the lesson without keeping the pain.

We can remember the person without wishing they were still in our lives.

We can accept that something ended without spending the rest of our lives asking why.

We can forgive someone without inviting them back into our lives.

And perhaps most importantly, we can forgive ourselves.

There are things we did when we were younger that we would never do today. But that is partly because we are no longer the person we were then.

We judge our younger selves with the knowledge we have today.

That's not always fair.

The person you were five years ago was making decisions with the understanding, maturity, and circumstances they had at the time. Maybe they made mistakes. Maybe they chose badly. But perhaps they were simply trying to get through life with the tools they had.

We should be able to look back at that person with some compassion.

After all, we are all carrying memories.

Some make us smile.

Some make us angry.

Some make us cry when nobody is watching.

Some remind us how far we've come.

And some remind us of how much we still need to heal.

But we get to decide what we carry forward.

Not every memory needs to become part of our identity. Not every painful experience needs to become a permanent wound. Not every chapter of our life needs to be reread.

The past has already happened.

We cannot change the people we were, the choices we made, or the things that happened to us.

But we can decide what those memories mean to the person we are becoming.

Maybe that is the real gift of memories.

They allow us to look back without necessarily going back.

They remind us where we came from, but they don't have to decide where we're going.

So keep the memories that make you grateful.

Keep the ones that remind you that you were loved.

Keep the ones that give you courage.

Keep the lessons.

And when you're ready, let go of the memories that only keep reopening wounds that have already begun to heal.

You don't have to forget your past to move forward.

Sometimes moving forward simply means carrying the right memories with you—and finally putting down the ones that were never meant to be carried forever.

Criticism Is Easy, But Contribution Is Hard

We live in a world where it has become very easy to criticize. We see something we don't like, and within seconds, we have an opinion about it. We criticize politicians, teachers, colleagues, parents, friends, businesses, and even complete strangers on social media. Sometimes the criticism is justified, but often it is much easier to point out a problem than to become part of the solution.

That is why the saying “Criticism is easy, but contribution is hard” has so much truth in it.

When we criticize something, we usually look at it from the outside. We see the mistakes, the delays, the failures, or the things that could have been done better. But contribution requires us to step inside the situation. It means accepting responsibility, putting in effort, taking risks, and sometimes failing ourselves.

For example, imagine a group of students working on a college project. One student does most of the work while another keeps saying, “This presentation is not good enough,” or “You should have done this differently.” It is easy to criticize when you have not done much yourself. But sitting down, researching the topic, preparing slides, practicing the presentation, and helping the team is much harder. The person who contributes may make mistakes, but at least they are trying to move the group forward.

We can see the same thing in the workplace. It is common to hear employees complain about their company, manager, or team. They may say, “Management doesn't understand us,” or “Nobody here knows how to organize things.” Some of these complaints may be completely valid. But there is a big difference between complaining about a problem and trying to solve it.

Suppose an employee notices that meetings are always too long and unproductive. One person may simply complain about it every week. Another might suggest a simple agenda, keep meetings focused, and volunteer to organize them. The second person is contributing. They are not just pointing at the problem; they are taking responsibility for improving it.

This idea is also important in our communities.

We often complain about dirty roads, garbage, traffic, poor public facilities, or a lack of civic responsibility. Of course, governments and local authorities have responsibilities. But ordinary citizens also have a role to play. If someone complains about litter everywhere but throws a plastic bottle on the road, their criticism loses its meaning.

On the other hand, a person who picks up litter, uses public spaces responsibly, encourages others not to litter, or participates in a local cleanliness drive may not change the entire city. But they have contributed something. Real change often begins with such small actions.

A good example can also be found in sports. Watching a cricket match from the sofa makes it very easy to criticize a player. “He should have played that shot.” “The captain made a terrible decision.” “The bowler should have bowled differently.” From the outside, everything seems simple.

But being on the field is completely different. There is pressure, uncertainty, fatigue, and the possibility of failure. The player has to make decisions in seconds. Criticizing from a comfortable chair requires almost nothing; performing under pressure requires preparation and courage.

This doesn't mean that criticism is always bad. Constructive criticism is necessary. Without criticism, people and institutions cannot improve. A teacher who tells a student where they went wrong is helping them grow. A colleague who points out a genuine mistake can prevent a bigger problem. A citizen who questions a government decision can contribute to a healthier democracy.

The difference is between criticism that destroys and criticism that improves.

If we say, “This is terrible,” and walk away, we have done very little. But if we say, “This isn't working, and here is what I think we can do differently,” we have moved from criticism toward contribution.

There is also a personal lesson in this.

Sometimes we criticize other people because it makes us feel better about ourselves. It is comfortable to talk about what someone else is doing wrong because we don't have to examine our own shortcomings. Contribution forces us to look in the mirror.

If we think our family is not close enough, perhaps we should spend more time with them. If we think our workplace culture is poor, perhaps we can start by being supportive and respectful to our colleagues. If we believe our community needs improvement, perhaps we should ask ourselves what we can personally do.

Contribution does not always mean doing something big.

A student helping a classmate understand a difficult subject is contributing. A neighbour helping an elderly person carry groceries is contributing. An employee mentoring a new colleague is contributing. A person listening patiently to a friend who is struggling is contributing. These actions may never make the news, but they make a difference to someone's life.

History itself shows that meaningful progress usually comes from people who decided not only to complain about problems but to do something about them. Social reformers, scientists, entrepreneurs, teachers, activists, and ordinary citizens have all contributed in different ways. They were not necessarily perfect, and they did not always succeed immediately. What separated them from passive critics was their willingness to act.

In the end, criticism gives us a voice, but contribution gives that voice meaning.

It is easy to sit on the sidelines and say what others should have done. It is much harder to step forward and say, “I will do my part.”

We don't have to solve every problem in the world. We don't even have to be the person with all the answers. Sometimes, simply being willing to help is enough to begin.

So the next time we find ourselves criticizing a person, a system, a workplace, or society, perhaps we should pause for a moment and ask ourselves one simple question:

“What am I doing to make it better?”

Because pointing out the problem may make us a critic.Trying to solve it makes us a contributor.

And the world has never lacked critics. What it needs more of are people willing to contribute.

My Life — The Way It Turned Out

When I look back at my life, sometimes I wonder how one person can live through so many different versions of herself.

I was once a young girl in a boarding school in the snowy hills. I still remember those years—the cold, the mountains, the feeling of being away from home and growing up surrounded by people who were not family. Those years shaped me in many ways. I learnt to manage on my own. I learnt to adjust. I learnt not to expect someone to always be there to hold my hand.

Then came college, and with it came the age when you start believing that you understand life.

I thought I understood love too.

The truth is, I didn’t really know what love was. I was in love with the idea of love. I believed that if two people chose each other, everything else would somehow fall into place.

So I fought my family. I rebelled. I wanted to marry the person I had chosen, and I was determined that nobody would stop me.

I wish I could go back and talk to that young girl.

I would tell her, “Don’t be in such a hurry. Don’t confuse wanting to be loved with actually being loved. Wait. See the person clearly. See how he treats you when he doesn’t get his way. See how he treats you when nobody is watching. See whether you feel safe, respected and valued.”

But young people don’t listen to older versions of themselves.

I got married.

And the strangest part is that I didn’t even have to wait very long to become disillusioned. The very same night, I knew something was terribly wrong.

I had fought everyone for this marriage, and yet almost immediately I found myself wondering what I had done.

There was no dramatic escape. No magic door through which I could walk out and start again.

Life simply continued.

And one day became another, then another year, and eventually another decade.

Fifty years.

Sometimes I cannot believe I have lived fifty years of married life feeling, in one way or another, that I made the wrong choice.

But life doesn’t stop just because your heart is disappointed.

I had to work.

I wanted my own money because money meant independence to me. It meant that I didn’t have to beg or ask for everything. It meant knowing that I could take care of myself. So I worked, learned, adapted and kept going.

Work gave me something important—my own identity.

And also that I was a mother.

Three daughters.

Three beautiful girls.

For them, I became a different person altogether.

I could tolerate things for myself, but when it came to my children, I became fierce. I wanted to protect them from the things I had experienced. I wanted them to grow up knowing their worth. I wanted them to have choices.

I don’t know whether I always succeeded.

No mother does.

But I know that I fought for them with everything I had.

Whatever else happened in my life, my daughters are the part of it that I will always be proud of.

They are my three beautiful pieces of happiness.

As the years passed, I also learnt something else—how to develop a thick skin.

When you hear enough criticism, enough taunts, enough instructions about how you should do everything, enough unnecessary drama and enough attempts to control little things in your everyday life, eventually something inside you changes.

You stop reacting to everything.

You learn to say nothing.

You learn to walk away.

You learn that not every accusation deserves an answer.

And you learn that sometimes keeping your peace is more important than proving that you are right.

But having a thick skin doesn’t mean that you don’t feel.

It only means that you have become very good at hiding what you feel.

Even now, there are days when I am exhausted by the constant need for attention, the arguments, the accusations and the stories told about me to other people.

It is particularly painful when someone takes the life you have lived and tells it differently to anyone who will listen.

I sometimes wonder whether people believe those stories.

And then I remind myself that I know the truth.

I know who I was.

I know what I did.

I know what I sacrificed.

I know what I endured.

Nobody else’s version of my life can change the life I actually lived.

Now I am old.

And perhaps this is the strangest stage of all.

There is no great ambition left to chase. No career ladder to climb. No children to raise. No future that needs to be built from scratch.

There is mostly today.

So I live one day at a time.

Some days are good.

Some are not.

Some days I laugh at something silly. 

Sometimes a song brings back a memory. 

Sometimes a movie takes me away from my own life for a few hours. 

Sometimes a cup of tea feels like enough.

It is funny how, when you get older, the little things become the big things.

A peaceful morning.

A kind conversation.

A good meal.

A laugh.

A memory.

Hearing from my daughters.

Knowing that someone thought of me.

These small things have carried me further than I ever imagined.

I have also reached a point where I am simply tired.

Not tired in the way sleep can cure.

Tired in my mind.

Tired of having to explain myself.

Tired of being misunderstood.

Tired of unnecessary conflict.

Tired of carrying the emotional weight of things that should have been easier.

There are times when I pray that God will simply call me home.

Not because I have nothing to be grateful for.

I do.

But because I am tired and I long for peace.

I don’t want to fight anymore.

I don’t want to prove anything anymore.

I don’t want to defend myself anymore.

I just want quiet.

And yet, when I look back at my life, I cannot say that it was all bad.

It wasn’t.

There were good days too.

There were people who were kind to me.

There were moments that made me laugh.

There were places I loved.

There was music.

There were books and films and little pleasures.

There was work that made me feel capable.

And there were my daughters.

Most importantly, there were my daughters.

So perhaps I should not look at my life only through the things I didn’t receive.

I didn’t get the love story I imagined when I was young.

I didn’t get the marriage I thought I was fighting for.

I didn’t get the peaceful companionship I perhaps deserved in old age.

But I did get experiences.

I got independence.

I got the strength that comes from surviving things you once thought would destroy you.

And I got three beautiful daughters.

Maybe that is what gratitude is at this age—not pretending that everything was wonderful, but being able to say:

“Yes, there was a lot of pain.

Yes, there were choices I would make differently.

Yes, there were years I wish had been different.

But there were also moments of happiness.

And I am grateful for those.”

I don’t know how many years I have left.

I don’t want to count them.

For now, I will simply live them.

One day.

One cup of tea.

One song.

One memory.

One conversation.

One small happiness at a time.

I have spent most of my life taking care of everyone else.

Perhaps now, even if only in small ways, I can learn to take care of the woman who was me all those years ago—

the girl in the snowy hills, 

the young woman who believed too much in love, 

the wife who discovered too soon that she had made a mistake, 

the working woman who wanted her independence, and 

the mother who became fierce because three little girls needed her.

She has been through a lot.

She deserves some kindness now.

And perhaps that is the one thing I would finally like to give her.

A little peace.

A little tenderness.

And the knowledge that, despite everything, she made it this far.

The Weight of Unheld Arms

There are people who measure love

by birthdays remembered,

by photographs framed,

by laughter around crowded tables.

I measure mine by the spaces

where a hug should have been.

Not once, from the hands that brought me into this world.

Not from siblings who shared my childhood roof.

Not from the man who promised forever.

Not from the children I carried in my heart.

Not from the tiny grandchildren whose arms never found their way around my neck.

I have lived through decades

without knowing what it feels like to be someone’s safe place,

or to rest inside the quiet certainty of another’s embrace.

People say, “It’s only a hug.”

They do not know that a hug says,

“You belong.”

“You matter.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

What is a heart supposed to believe

when it has never heard those words

or without a single sentence spoken?

Some days,

I wonder if I was born missing something invisible—

some secret worth everyone else received without asking.

I smile.

I speak gently.

I help.

I give.

I endure.

Yet somewhere inside,

a small child still stands at the doorway,

arms half-raised, waiting for someone

to choose her.

Years have passed.

The child has silver hair now.

She still waits.

The emptiness doesn’t shout anymore.

It has learned to whisper.

It sits beside me at family gatherings.

It follows me into quiet evenings.

It lies beside me when sleep refuses to come.

It asks, again and again,

“If no one has ever held me…

was I ever worth holding?”

I have no easy answer.

Only this:

My life became a garden

where everyone else found shade,

while the gardener stood alone in the sun.

Perhaps my greatest sorrow is not that I was unloved,

but that I spent a lifetime loving others

with arms that were never held.

And if heaven

keeps count of silent griefs,

may it remember this one:

There lived a woman

whose heart never stopped giving,

even though it never truly knew what it felt like

to be gathered close,

to be cherished,

to be home

in another person’s arms.

WHEN YOU COME HOME

A Grandmother's Song

Verse 1

I hold your laughter in my hands,
Though oceans keep us far apart.
The miles may draw their lines on maps,
They cannot draw them through my heart.

Each night I whisper to the moon,
"Please kiss those little cheeks for me."
The stars become my lullaby,
Across the endless silver sea.

---

Pre-Chorus

One day you'll ask me where love lives...
I'll smile and simply say—

---

Chorus

It lives where every story starts,
In open skies and open hearts.
In every prayer, in every smile,
That waits for you each passing mile.

Come when you can, don't hurry home,
The door will always open be.
For home is not a place you find—
It's where your heart remembers me.

---

Verse 2

I'll show you mountains dressed in snow,
That touch the morning's golden light.
I'll show you rivers old as dreams,
Still singing through the silent night.

We'll chase the monsoon down the fields,
Watch peacocks dance before the rain.
And breathe the scent of earth reborn—
A perfume words cannot explain.

---

Chorus

We'll walk through colours, songs and prayers,
Where kindness quietly fills the air.
Taste mango summers, saffron skies,
See wonder through your own young eyes.

Come when you can, don't hurry home,
My love has learned the art of wait.
For every road you choose to walk
Will always lead you to my gate.

---

Bridge

You'll hear a thousand different tongues,
Yet every smile will say the same—
"Sit down, you've come a long, long way.
Now you are family again."

You'll light a tiny earthen lamp,
Its little flame both soft and bright.
And understand why hope survives
Even through the darkest night.

---

Key Change

If I am old... if I am gone...
Don't think you've walked this world alone.

Listen...

When morning birds begin to sing,
When children laugh, when temple bells ring,
When rain first kisses thirsty ground—
My love is there inside that sound.

---

Final Chorus

Come home someday, my precious ones,
Where ancient rivers greet the sun.
Where every season paints the earth,
Reminding us what life is worth.

And if your feet never find this shore,
Remember what I've told before—

You carry India when you're kind.
You carry India when you share.
You carry India when you forgive.
You carry India when you care.

For home is never lost by sea...

It's living quietly...

Inside of me.
Inside of you.
Forever.

Sleep well, my little stars...

Nani loves you.

Always.

English with Hindi Words

"Nani's Promise"

Verse

My little angels, don't you fear,
Your Nani's always very near.
Across the oceans, near or far,
I wish upon each evening star.

I'll tell you stories every night,
Of India's colours, warm and bright.

Chorus

Come, my bachche, come one day,
Let Nani show you the way.

We'll watch the diya softly glow,
Where gentle evening breezes blow.

We'll draw a bright rangoli round,
With happy colours on the ground.

We'll hear the temple bells that ring,
And koel birds at sunrise sing.

We'll taste hot rotis, mango sweet,
Fresh jalebi, every treat.

We'll walk beside the holy Ganga,
Dance to joyful dhol and tabla.

We'll smell the mitti after rain,
A fragrance words cannot explain.

Bridge

Whether London, Sydney, Toronto, too,
Or anywhere the skies are blue,

Remember where your roots began,
The dreams, the love, the guiding hand.

Your Nani's heart will always say,
"India is never far away."

Final Chorus

Come, my bachche, whenever you can,
Come walk this ancient, gentle land.

And if your journey keeps you far,
My love will find you where you are.

Because a Nani's heart can see,
Across each shore, across each sea.

Indian Folk / Classical Inspired Version

"The Song of My Motherland"

My darling children, listen near,
I'll paint a land both bright and dear.

Where dawn first kisses snowy peaks,
And every mountain softly speaks.

Where Ganga carries ancient prayer,
And jasmine perfumes evening air.

Where banyan trees tell tales of old,
And marigolds outshine the gold.

Where temple bells and mosque calls blend,
Where every faith can find a friend.

Where Diwali lights the darkest night,
And Holi bursts in colours bright.

Where harvest songs fill village skies,
And hope is seen in farmers' eyes.

Where coconut palms greet the sea,
And deserts bloom unexpectedly.

Where forests echo tiger's roar,
And elephants still roam once more.

Where spices scent the morning breeze—
Cardamom, cinnamon, cloves with ease.

Where rotis puff on open flame,
And every meal is love by name.

One day, my loves, come walk this land,
Hold India's heartbeat in your hand.

Till then, each lullaby I sing
Will carry home on gentle wings.

Modern Verse–Chorus–Bridge Song (a song for my little ones)

"Come Home to India, My Little Ones"

Verse 1

My little stars across the sea,
Though miles divide our family tree,
Each morning when I whisper prayers,
My love comes floating through the air.

I see your smiles in every dawn,
Though many seasons have now gone.
The distance never dims the light,
That binds our hearts both day and night.

Pre-Chorus

Close your eyes and dream with me,
Of the land that shaped our family.

Chorus

Come home someday, my little ones,
Where every river greets the sun.
Where mountains kiss the sapphire sky,
And peacocks dance as clouds roll by.

Taste mango summers, hear temple bells,
The stories every grandmother tells.
Though oceans keep us far apart

India lives inside your heart.

Verse 2

Walk through valleys dressed in flowers,
Golden deserts, ancient towers.
Hear the waves where oceans sing,
Watch the forests come alive in spring.

Meet the people, kind and true,
Who'll smile before they speak to you.
Where every stranger finds a friend,
And open hearts know no end.

Chorus

Come home someday, my little ones... (repeat)

Bridge

If ever you should lose your way,
Or skies above turn cold and grey,
Remember roots run deep below,
Where love and hope forever grow.

Your Nani's prayers cross every tide,
With India walking by your side.

Final Chorus

Come home someday, my little ones,
To fields beneath a thousand suns.
And if life keeps you far away,
Carry her light with you each day.

For home's not only where we start,
It's every beat within your heart.

Grandma's Song Across the Seas

My dearest hearts, though oceans stretch so wide,
My love still finds you with each rising sun.
You're nestled where the northern skylines glide,
Yet in my heart, our souls remain as one.

I wish you'd hear the monsoon's joyful rain,
That paints the thirsty earth in emerald green;
See mighty Himalayas proudly reign,
And rivers weave through lands of gold serene.

Taste mangoes sweet and fragrant pots of spice,
Warm rotis shared with laughter every day;
Meet gentle hearts whose smiles need no disguise,
Where every guest is family on their way.

Though far you grow, may India fill your soul—
For love knows every distance, and makes us whole.

Hearing vs Listening

Greetings --importance & effects

Greetings Are Important. Greetings are vital to make that first good impression, establish good relationships with your loved ones and set a positive tone for any conversation whether it is with your friend, boss or client. If you want to be an effective personality, you should not ignore the importance of greetings.

The greetings change depending on the time of the day. For example, “Good morning” is generally used from 5:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m. whereas “Good afternoon” is appropriate for a period from 12:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. “Good evening” is often used after 6 p.m. or when the sun goes down.

The majority of older people insist that with this simple gesture you reflect the values of your family, while others hold the opinion that it is a symbol of respect. In any case, a greeting is very important to us. It is a manifestation of warmth, appreciation, and love that one person has for others.

Smiling will also improve your health by reducing stress, boosting your immune system, lowering your blood pressure and making you look younger. To make a positive impression on people you are greeting, look in their eyes and offer a warm, friendly smile as you tell them how pleased you are to meet or see them.

The effects of a simple greeting

We all need recognition. We need to feel that we matter. This doesn't mean that we should be running for glory and honour, but every human being has a basic and natural desire to be acknowledged as significant.

And we can give some of this significance to others simply by greeting them properly. The first thing to realize, which we certainly don't always think about, is that when we greet people with a 'good morning', we are actually giving them a blessing. We are telling them that we hope they will have a good morning. We are not defining the morning by saying 'good morning' rather, we are offering a blessing that it should be a good morning.

All greetings are meant in this way. The classical 'shalom aleichem' means literally that 'peace should be upon you', an excellent blessing which we always need…

The explanation would appear to be that when we see a fellow human being, we are obliged to acknowledge his value and importance. ...But even in the greeting, you display your respect for the person, even more, when you offer him a blessing that he should succeed, that things should go well, that he should have a 'good morning.'

And the way in which we greet someone is also important. ...We are not supposed to give someone a quick hello; rather, we should give them eye contact, emotion, and genuine loving attention. 

As someone rightly said, "I came to love the way he lit up when I entered the room. He did this for many people, I know, but it was his special talent to make each visitor feel that the smile was unique. And it didn't stop with the greeting. When he was with you, he was really with you. He looked you straight in the eye, and he listened as if you were the only person in the world. How much better would people get along if their first encounter each day were like this—instead of a grumble from a waitress, or a bus driver, or a boss?

Formal greetings: “How do you do?”

·        “Hello!”

·        “Good morning.”

·        “Good afternoon.”

·        “Good evening.”

·        “It's nice to meet you.”

·        “It's a pleasure to meet you.” (These last two only work when you are meeting someone for the first time.)

·         “ Hi!” ( Probably the most commonly used greeting in English)

·        “ Morning!”

Who thought that such a common greeting could be so powerful? By acknowledging others in the community and having that acknowledgement reciprocated, we feel connected to the indigenous. Within the first week in a new place, the feeling of being an outsider will vanish, and you will feel accepted by the communities that you interact with. It is amazing how a simple nod and smile can considerably increase one’s sense of connection to the people around them.

Many of us experience some sort of rejection on a day-to-day basis. We often may feel ignored or excluded. Although some of us have become desensitized to this feeling, it can still put a damper on anyone’s day. However, a greeting can alleviate this sense of rejection. This sort of acknowledgement can make anyone feel more accepted by the people around them and easily brighten their day.

Unfortunately, most of us are sucked into our phones, checking our email, scrolling through Facebook / Instagram, or updating our Snapchat stories. We rarely acknowledge those around us, unless they are someone we know. We can change that. We should try to interact with the people around us. Little may we know that a simple hello/smile can make a huge impact on their day.

Feeling a Void in Life

Having a void means a feeling of unhappiness because someone or something is missing: a large hole or empty space:

The human mind is very powerful.  If it is not controlled, it can lead you to the turmoil of feelings and emotions and such things will decide your life. Most of the times, such states of mind are based on illogical beliefs and notions and prejudices and it will not give you a successful and a better or a desired life. There could be a million reasons. Whatever the reason is, it’s turning your brain against you. A void is unhappiness without a reason, without knowing what causes it you just feel empty

When a person gets an emotional breakdown, this phenomenon happens. Ex: big failures in love affairs, huge losses in finance, set back in marital life, death of a loved one or any such emotional setbacks might result in some kind of void-a feeling of nothingness, a feeling of a vacuum created in the mind. The human being then seeks for meaning or significance which will make him continue his life. When a person thus encounters such meaningless mundane issues but meaningful to his reasoning and thirst for something better, nobler, permanent and eternal, he feels as if he is struck up with void.

There is nothing wrong if the feeling of void stays with one for a short time; else it will take him to a psychiatrist!
The best option is to expose yourself to a new environment, forming new circles, to develop new skills.

Maybe you are going through some stress or something is bothering you which you are not able to share with anyone…or probably you are finding your life to be very monotonous and you are in need of a change ….talk to someone! Share your grief or problems so that you don’t feel like you are alone! For a change read a good book or go out somewhere …give yourself a makeover or just take out time to appreciate yourself!!

I don't exactly know what you are feeling, but I can tell you what I felt.
The void that I felt, and still do, is something that goes away as I focus on activities.
Like I put in more effort and concentration at work, music helps (a lot), reading, and talking to people and trying to keep myself occupied. I try not to dwell on the negative feelings; they've never brought me anything but unhappiness. 

It helps to do what you are good at, makes you feel strong and in control. You can learn a new skill, makes you feel like a winner, and you can start a new exercise routine which just makes you feel awesome.

All the options, whatever you choose to do, requires you to set short term goals, something you can achieve in a week, maybe two. Slowly built it up, it'll be tough at first and will get easier as you keep it up. But it is important to do something, sitting around isn't going to help. If you feel really bad, consider some professional help too. No shame in that. Don't let pride or shame get in the way of feeling like yourself again.

We feel a void within when we have no purpose in our life. We enjoy living when our life is fulfilled (with purpose). Hence, you must discover your purpose. The centre of your purpose must lie outside you. It means that you must see how can you make the world a better place? You must help others to create a better world and in this process, you will get a better purpose. Your void will be filled.

The human mind is like an uncontrolled horse and it is required to be controlled. By feeding your mind with useful stuff and engaging yourself in some works, you will definitely realize that such feelings and emotions are actually senseless and useless products of the human brain.

I wish you the best and remind you “Believe in yourself -You deserve the best!”

The Powerful Words

 Words have power

Words have names

Words can always change the game

So use them with caution 

Use them with care

Use them to show that you care

Words can hurt

Words can wound

If used carelessly

They can even maim and kill

So once again I say

Use them wisely

Use them sparingly

Use them to build relations

Not to destroy the world