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

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.