Butterflies in the Mind: When Calm Takes a Rain Check

Butterflies in the Mind: When Calm Takes a Rain Check

Nervousness—a word so commonplace, yet a feeling so profoundly personal. It creeps in like a silent guest at an otherwise placid gathering of thoughts, shaking hands with anxiety and waltzing with doubt. For me, nervousness doesn’t shout; it whispers. It doesn’t always come with grand announcements but slips in uninvited, most often when the stakes are high and the spotlight is brighter than usual.

The Quiet Before the Quiver

There is a moment—just a breath before stepping onto a stage, addressing a gathering, or submitting a piece of work—that a small tremor makes itself known. It’s not fear, mind you. It’s that silent tug at the hem of confidence, questioning if all preparations will stand the test of an expectant audience. “Have I done enough?” That question alone can stir the pot, even when the soup of effort has simmered long.

As someone who has spent a life around blackboards and balance sheets of expectations, I’ve learned that nervousness is the body’s way of saying, “This matters to you.” And perhaps, that’s its redeeming quality. The fluttering butterflies in the stomach are less of a problem and more of a performance enhancer—if you can keep them flying in formation.

Tightropes and Tender Steps

There’s nervousness that stems from novelty. Trying something for the first time—be it public speaking in a foreign land, a chance interview, or navigating a new system—can send shivers down the spine. The unknown has an uncanny ability to make even the most seasoned sailor check the weather twice.

Then there’s the pressure of perfection. When you care about the outcome—when your name, your reputation, or your values are on the line—even the most confident soul might feel the ground beneath getting a tad unsteady. You begin to measure your own mettle with a yardstick too harsh, forgetting that even the best-crafted plans can be blown off course by the gentlest wind.

Silence Can Be Loud

But if I were to pick one specific scenario that makes me most nervous, it would be the silence after vulnerability. The pause after expressing a heartfelt opinion, sharing an original thought, or opening up about a belief—those moments carry the weight of judgment. The fear of being misunderstood or met with apathy is more daunting than outright rejection. It’s like playing a note and waiting to see if it resonates or ricochets.

Handling the Hiccups

How does one handle this jittery beast called nervousness? I’ve found that routine helps. Preparation is a reliable antidote, but even more so is acceptance. Acknowledge the tremble, shake hands with it, and walk forward anyway. Because courage is not the absence of nervousness—it’s dancing with it till the music fades.

Deep breathing, a silent prayer, a mental rehearsal of outcomes—these are small torches I carry into the cave of uncertainty. And if all else fails, I remind myself of the idiom, “Feel the fear and do it anyway.”

The Final Take

Nervousness, in all its uninvited glory, is a part of being alive. It keeps us grounded, humble, and alert. It’s the mind’s way of wearing a raincoat before the storm, just in case. And while I may never fully silence that inner drumbeat before an important moment, I’ve learnt to march to its rhythm instead of being paralysed by it.

So the next time nervousness knocks, I won’t pretend it doesn’t exist. I’ll simply nod, offer it a cup of tea, and say, “Alright, let’s walk through this together.”

DADT at Home: A Family of Strangers under One Roof”When silence isn’t golden, but a cage made of rules.

“DADT at Home: A Family of Strangers under One Roof”
When silence isn’t golden, but a cage made of rules.

In an age when families are meant to be sanctuaries of trust, comfort, and open-hearted conversations, imagine a household governed by a peculiar unwritten rule: DADT—Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. No, not the military policy, but a twisted family norm. One where you don’t ask me about myself, and you don’t tell me about yourself.

Such a code may seem harmless at first—an attempt to avoid friction, perhaps, or to respect boundaries. But when taken to heart, it turns the home into a hall of closed doors, a place where hearts beat in unison under the same roof but minds drift like ships passing in the night, unmoored and unseen.

The Illusion of Peace

Many families unknowingly operate under this protocol. “Better not ask—he might get angry.” “No point telling her—she won’t understand.” So we zip our lips, smile politely, share meals, exchange pleasantries, and yet remain islands in a sea of silence.

Yes, such silence avoids arguments—but also avoids intimacy. It dodges confrontation but also sidesteps connection. In a world bursting with notifications and noise, our family becomes the one place where no one is really heard.

When Rules Replace Relationships

In such an environment, emotions are exiled, and feelings are reduced to fleeting shadows. A son struggling with failure dares not speak for fear of being judged. A mother battling loneliness bottles it up, assuming no one will ask. A father feels irrelevant but puts on a brave front. And the daughter, burning with dreams and doubts, finds no sounding board.

Is this not emotional erosion in the name of decorum?

We start mistaking detachment for discipline, and reserve for respect. Yet families aren’t boardrooms or battlegrounds—they’re supposed to be breathing spaces for our inner worlds, not cloisters of secrecy.

Of Roots and Wings

Children need roots to keep them grounded, and wings to help them fly. But roots don’t grow in sand; they grow in soil enriched with conversations, confessions, and caring counsel. When we don’t ask our children about their dreams, or don’t tell them our own stories of struggle, we rob them of their heritage of hope.

And when elderly parents live among grown-up children who never ask how their day was, or what’s troubling them, it’s akin to watching a tree wither while watering the lawn.

Breaking the Code

To break the DADT pattern, we need neither sermons nor psychology degrees—just a little curiosity, a sprinkle of empathy, and the courage to start small. Ask your spouse, “How was your day, really?” Ask your parents, “What made you happy today?” Tell your child, “You know, I messed up at work once too.” These are the bridges we build over the chasms of silence.

Every family has its share of secrets, but when secrecy becomes the default language, love becomes a monologue, not a dialogue.

Let’s Rephrase DADT

Maybe it’s time to redefine the acronym:

– Dare to ask.

– Accept the answer.

– Disclose your truth.

– Trust the bond.

Because when we ask, we show care. When we tell, we express trust. And between the two, we weave the tapestry of togetherness.

Let’s not allow politeness to become poison, nor privacy to mutate into emotional exile. Instead, let the home echo with real voices, not just background noise.

Tags:
#FamilyDynamics #CommunicationMatters #EmotionalWellbeing #FamilyBonding #BreakingTheSilence #DADTInFamilies #ModernParenting #MentalHealthAwareness #HomeAndHeart #RelationshipsMatter #FamilyLife #TrustAndTruth #SpeakAndListen #EmotionalIntelligence #SilentSuffering

How I Unwind Without Unravelling: A Civilised Guide to Post-Chaos Decompression”

“How I Unwind Without Unravelling: A Civilised Guide to Post-Chaos Decompression”

Let’s be honest — after a long day of dodging deadlines, deciphering messages that say “Kindly do the needful”, and resisting the urge to throw your mobile into the nearest lake, the soul demands what I call a graceful collapse.

Unwinding isn’t just about flopping onto the sofa like a Victorian fainting aristocrat — it’s an art. A delicate dance between maintaining your dignity and unashamedly retreating from all adult responsibilities. After all, we’ve braved the storm. We deserve a medal — or at least a decent cup of something strong.

Step One: Mentally Fire Everyone

No matter your profession — principal, plumber, or planetary physicist — the first act of unwinding is conducted mentally: fire everyone. That annoying colleague? Gone. That unrealistic WhatsApp group admin? Muted for eternity. The neighbour who insists on drilling at 9 p.m.? Promoted to Chief Officer of Noise Pollution, then promptly sacked.

This imaginary HR exercise is surprisingly therapeutic and costs nothing. Except your last shred of patience, which was already fraying anyway.

Step Two: Wear Clothes that Offend Fashion

Professional attire has its place — that place being not at home. The moment I walk in, I change into something so comfortable, it’s practically a legal grey area. I speak of trousers with questionable elastic, T-shirts that have seen better centuries, and socks that no longer pair — they just coexist.

Comfort over couture, every time.

Step Three: The Art of Doing Absolutely Nothing — With Intention

Some call it mindfulness. I call it staring into the abyss of my living room with profound philosophical detachment. It’s a high-performance activity that involves absolutely no movement, minimal blinking, and an internal monologue that ranges from “What is the meaning of life?” to “Did I leave the geyser on?”

This meditative pause resets the brain — or at least puts it in flight mode.

Step Four: Take an Unofficial Tea Break (or Three)

Here’s a life hack: tea doesn’t judge. Herbal, masala, green, black — it welcomes you back from the frontline of your daily grind. The ritual is calming. The sip, divine. The third cup? Slightly concerning but entirely necessary.

It’s not a beverage anymore — it’s a loyal companion. The teabag has more patience than most people I’ve met.

Step Five: Initiate Controlled Social Hibernation

No, I don’t want to join another video call, thank you. No, I won’t respond to 17 “urgent” texts that involve neither urgency nor importance. Evening hours are sacred territory — guarded fiercely against the invasion of social duties.

Unless it involves food or scandal, I’m respectfully unavailable.

Step Six: Laugh — Unapologetically

Whether it’s an old comedy sketch, a reel that’s so silly it threatens your IQ, or a well-timed memory of your own public embarrassment — laughing is non-negotiable. Nothing unwinds the tightly coiled spring of modern life like a proper laugh — the kind that begins as a chuckle and ends in a breathless existential crisis.

Before I Pretend to Sleep

Unwinding isn’t a fixed recipe. It’s more like a buffet — you pick what comforts you, ignore what bores you, and occasionally regret the third helping of nonsense. The goal isn’t to be productive, insightful, or even awake — it’s simply to recover the version of yourself that existed before the day happened.

So, if your idea of unwinding includes tuning out, turning off, or threatening your Wi-Fi with bodily harm, know this: you’re not alone. You’re in the dignified company of people who’ve chosen peace over productivity — at least for a few sacred evening hours.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a pressing appointment with my sofa and a blanket that has seen too much.

Scrolling Through the Soul: My Social Media Safari

How do you use social media?

Scrolling Through the Soul: My Social Media Safari

Once upon a time, conversations were held over cups of tea, letters carried emotions across continents, and photographs lived in albums with crinkled corners. Fast forward to the 21st century, and we find ourselves living double lives—one in the tangible world and the other in the bustling, buzzing world of social media.

As for me, my voyage through the social media jungle has been nothing short of a safari—part thrilling, part bewildering, and occasionally exhausting.

Social Media: A Window and a Mirror

To begin with, I don’t “use” social media so much as I “navigate” it—like an old sailor studying the stars while sailing unfamiliar seas. Platforms like Facebook, LinkedIn, and WhatsApp have become both my compass and my telescope. They help me stay in touch with old students, respected colleagues, and distant relatives, and occasionally discover new voices that echo my own musings.

Yet, social media is a double-edged sword. On one end, it gives me a platform to share my thoughts, verses, and educational philosophies. On the other, it often whispers in the ears of youth (and adults alike) the intoxicating lies of popularity, likes, and virtual validation. I’ve learned to tread carefully, like a gardener walking barefoot among roses—enjoying the fragrance but mindful of the thorns.

Facebook: My Public Drawing Room

Facebook is where I don my philosophical hat. I share blogs, poems, memories, and at times, life lessons that I believe might strike a chord with someone somewhere. It’s less about showing off my breakfast and more about sharing a slice of my soul. I avoid the comparison trap and refrain from scrolling endlessly. One could call me a “selective surfer” in that regard.

WhatsApp: The Digital Living Room

WhatsApp groups are, frankly, like Indian joint families—noisy, nostalgic, and full of drama. I appreciate the meaningful forwards, but the barrage of “Good Morning” messages with sunflowers and doves sometimes feels like a classroom where everyone talks but no one listens. Still, it keeps me connected to my former staff, my extended family, and cherished friends from Nepal to Ludhiana.

LinkedIn: A Suit-Wearing Stranger

LinkedIn is the most formal of them all—a place where people seem to always be ‘honoured’ or ‘humbled.’ I use it sparingly, mostly to share my consultation work and to inspire educational institutions to look beyond textbooks and timetables. However, it often reminds me how the world values youth over wisdom, and speed over depth—a bitter pill, but a real one.

YouTube and Instagram: Occasional Flirtations

My interaction with YouTube is primarily musical. It’s my jukebox, my evening retreat, my partner in solitude. Occasionally, I share videos of me playing the harmonium or keyboard. Instagram, however, is a territory I tiptoe into—more observer than participant. The fast pace and fleeting attention span it demands doesn’t sit well with my reflective temperament.

The Soul of Social Media

At its best, social media is a bridge—a way to cross time and space, to connect, to console, to celebrate. At its worst, it’s a stage for vanity, echo chambers, and mindless noise. I try to keep it sacred, using it as a journal of ideas, a scrapbook of gratitude, and a tool for sharing my legacy with the next generation.

Final Musings: Use It, Don’t Be Used

The golden rule I follow: Be the master, not the minion. Use social media without letting it use you. Take a break when it begins to steal your peace. Speak when your words can bring warmth, and scroll with purpose, not with passivity. After all, we weren’t born to merely watch others live—we were born to live, and if possible, inspire.

So, while I scroll, post, like, and comment, I also pause, pray, reflect, and disconnect. That, to me, is how social media becomes a source of light rather than noise.

The Echoes of Silence: A Journey of Self-Discovery

Jot down the first thing that comes to your mind.

The Echoes of Silence: A Journey of Self-Discovery

The first thing that comes to my mind when I think of life, its many challenges, and the ongoing quest for meaning, is the profound silence that often echoes within us. It is during these quiet moments that we discover our deepest truths, hidden desires, and unspoken fears. In this space of solitude, we find clarity, a calmness that often eludes us amidst the noise of daily life.

Life, for me, has always been an amalgamation of both noise and silence—an intricate dance between the two. As a school principal, I was surrounded by constant chatter, the hum of activity, the laughter and commotion of students. Yet, it was during moments of pause, when the world outside fell silent, that I truly understood the pulse of life. These were the moments that allowed me to reflect, to understand not just the world around me, but the person I had become in the process.

When I reflect on my early years, there were times when silence was a companion during the struggles of education. Growing up in a world full of expectations, my dreams were often muffled by the noise of others’ voices. But it was in those still moments, in the times when I was left to my own thoughts, that I found the strength to persevere. It’s a silence that speaks volumes, urging you to listen to your own heart, to follow your own path.

The absence of sound also brings to mind the intricate balance of life itself. We often find ourselves caught up in the rush to achieve, to succeed, to be seen and heard. Yet, it is the quiet moments of introspection that hold the answers to life’s questions. It is in silence that we realise that sometimes, success is not in loud triumphs, but in the small, silent victories of personal growth.

As I look back, I realise that silence has been an unspoken teacher. It taught me the value of listening—truly listening—not only to others but also to my own inner voice. It taught me patience, as silence often does. It taught me that not every battle needs to be fought with noise, and not every victory needs to be celebrated with a loud cheer. Sometimes, a quiet acknowledgment of progress is all that is needed.

In today’s fast-paced world, silence is often seen as a rarity, even an inconvenience. Yet, I believe it is in silence that we find our true selves. The cacophony of life, while exhilarating, often drowns out the wisdom that silence offers. It is when we embrace the silence, when we pause amidst the chaos, that we discover not just who we are, but who we are meant to become.

So, as we go about our busy lives, I urge you to take a moment of silence. Let it envelop you. Reflect on your journey, on the lessons you’ve learned, and the wisdom you’ve gained. It is in these moments of quiet reflection that we come to understand the profound significance of life itself.

Life is not about the noise we make or the accolades we earn. It is about the silent spaces in between—the pauses that allow us to hear the whispers of our souls.

The Magnificent Seven: Core Attributes That Make Us Truly Human

The Magnificent Seven: Core Attributes That Make Us Truly Human

In the tapestry of life, it is not the colour of our skin, the language of our tongue, nor the height of our intellect that defines us most vividly—but the essence of our being, expressed through core attributes that make us truly human. Over the course of my years as a teacher, Principal, parent, and pilgrim of life, I have often pondered: What truly shapes a human being? The answer lies not in titles or talents, but in traits—seven of them—that hold the lamp to our humanity.

Let me walk you through The Magnificent Seven—the cardinal attributes of a human soul.

1. Compassion – The Heart That Feels

“The best portion of a good man’s life: his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love.” – William Wordsworth

Compassion, that gentle whisper from the heart, is what separates the brute from the human. It is not mere sympathy, but a heartfelt drive to alleviate another’s suffering. Compassion has no caste, no creed. It is the binding force that holds society in place. I have seen children share their tiffin with others without being asked—small acts, big hearts.

2. Reason – The Mind That Questions

We are not born to be mere puppets of circumstance. Reason, our gift from nature and nurture alike, helps us sift through right and wrong. In ancient India, tarka (logical discourse) was considered sacred. From Socrates to the seers of the Upanishads, questioning has been the key to understanding.

Yet, reasoning is not to be confused with rebellion. It must be laced with humility and anchored in truth.

3. Conscience – The Inner Compass

A clear conscience is the softest pillow. This attribute is often unspoken but deeply felt. One may escape the laws of the land, but the laws of the heart are not so forgiving. It is that quiet voice which knows when one is veering off the moral path.

As a school Principal, I often observed children confessing small mischiefs. They weren’t afraid of punishment—they were driven by that internal stir known as guilt. A beautiful sign of growing humanity.

4. Resilience – The Spirit That Endures

Life doesn’t come with a cushion. We fall, we fail, and we feel forsaken. But it is resilience—the power to rise again—that makes heroes out of ordinary men and women.

I still recall my days of walking miles to school, books wrapped in old newspaper, hopes carried in the pocket of my soul. If I survived, it was not by luck but by an inner spark that refused to die. As Kipling said, “If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster / And treat those two impostors just the same…”

5. Gratitude – The Soul’s Sunshine

Gratitude turns what we have into enough. It is the antidote to entitlement and the seed of contentment. Whether it is thanking a teacher, appreciating a stranger, or whispering a prayer for a good meal—gratitude adds grace to our lives.

It reminds me of a student who once wrote to me after ten long years, thanking me for believing in him when no one else did. That letter remains one of my life’s most cherished mementoes.

6. Creativity – The Hand That Shapes Dreams

To create is divine. Whether you paint, sing, write, teach, or cook, creativity is our connection to the cosmos. It is what transforms monotony into meaning.

The ancients crafted epics, the moderns’ build algorithms. Both are expressions of the same human urge: to leave a mark. Creativity is not the preserve of the artist alone; it lies dormant in every human, awaiting a gentle nudge.

7. Faith – The Bridge Beyond Logic

Not necessarily religious, but deeply spiritual—faith is that invisible pillar which holds up a life in ruins. Faith in God, in goodness, in justice, or even in oneself—this attribute gives man the courage to march even through a desert.

As someone who has walked through both storms and spring, I say this without a blink—faith is the wind beneath the wings of the weary.A Symphony Within

A Symphony Within

These seven attributes are not mutually exclusive. They co-exist, interweave, and blossom together. A human being is not a product of chance but a composition—a symphony—of heart, mind, and spirit.

We are not perfect beings. But if we nurture these seven seeds, we can grow into humans worthy of the name. The world doesn’t need more successful people; it needs compassionate, resilient, grateful, creative human beings guided by reason, conscience, and faith.

May we strive to be not just homo sapiens, but homo humanus—humans, in the truest sense.

Tags:
#HumanAttributes #Compassion #Reasoning #Conscience #Resilience #Gratitude #Creativity #Faith #PhilosophicalWriting #LifeLessons #CharacterBuilding #EducationalInsights #PersonalGrowth #UKEnglishBlog #PrincipalSpeaks #ValuesInLife #HumanityFirst #BlogByPrashantLal #MoralValues #SoulfulWriting

The Stranger Who Knew the Mountain’s Secret

Describe a random encounter with a stranger that stuck out positively to you.

The Stranger Who Knew the Mountain’s Secret

Nestled amidst the whispering pines and mist-kissed hills of Sanawar, there lies an old-world charm—one that cradles silence like a lullaby and lets time slip through your fingers like fine mountain dust. It was during one of my solitary evening walks through those winding hill trails that I encountered a stranger whose presence was fleeting, yet unforgettable.

The evening sky was beginning to blush with shades of tangerine, the sun taking a quiet bow behind the Dhauladhars. I had just taken the path past the Chapel, a route less frequented, often echoing with one’s own footfalls and thoughts. A gentle breeze rustled the deodars, and the air had that typical hill nip—a reminder that the night was not far behind.

That’s when I noticed an elderly gentleman seated on a moss-covered bench carved into the hillside. His attire was simple—woollen shawl draped over his shoulders, a tweed cap slightly askew, and a walking stick resting against the bench like an old friend. What caught my attention was the book in his hands—Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations—dog-eared, annotated, and clearly loved.

“You’re fond of the Stoics?” I asked, more out of curiosity than intent for conversation.

He looked up, eyes twinkling behind thick glasses. “They’ve never left me,” he said with a chuckle. “I read them not to escape, but to arrive.”

Intrigued, I sat beside him. What followed was a conversation that defied time. We spoke of the Stoics and sages, of Gandhi and Gibran, of mountains and the metaphors they gift us. He told me he once taught Philosophy at a university, then chose to retire early and live amidst the hills, teaching the children of the staff and the local villages in the afternoons, not for income but for inspiration.

“You see,” he said, pointing at the peaks bathed in gold, “every mountain teaches resilience, every sunset whispers closure. We just forget to listen.”

He shared how he’d lost his wife to illness a decade ago, and how the silence of the hills had become both balm and companion. There was no self-pity in his words, only a tranquil acceptance—like the mountain accepting every season with grace.

As darkness tiptoed in and the cicadas began their chorus, he stood up, tapped his stick twice on the ground, and smiled. “Keep walking,” he said, “but remember—it’s not the summit that matters. It’s the stillness you find along the way.”

And just like that, he was gone—disappearing down a footpath I hadn’t noticed before.

I never saw him again, though I returned to that spot several times. Perhaps he was real, perhaps a phantom of the hills sent to stir the embers of reflection. But his words remain etched in my soul, particularly in moments when I question the rhythm of my journey after retirement.

In a world so obsessed with noise and motion, that chance encounter was like a whispered prayer—reminding me that the quiet ones, the thinkers, the strangers with worn books and wiser hearts, are often the ones who carry the real secrets of life.

And Sanawar—oh dear Sanawar—remains the keeper of such secrets, cradled gently in her cool, pine-scented arms.