I wish to be a husband like Maryada Purushottam Sri Ram — the one who never let even the shadow of another woman cross his path, who crossed the ocean with love as his fire, and waged a war for the sanctity of one bond Seetha.
Many may laugh, may judge for I am no Ram, not yet.
My past holds shadows, but my heart holds light. I believe, when I rise with Ram within me, my Seetha, too, shall rise from the soil of my destiny.

I long to be a father — not just to children, but to Devis. To be the doorway through which Maa Kali, Maa Shakti themselves descend. My daughters shall not just be born; they shall arrive with thunder and grace, and I shall be their shield, their silent prayer, their loudest roar. I do not wish to be like Daksha Prajapati, whose ego cost him his daughter Sati, the very Shakti of the cosmos. I shall be like Himavan, who gave Parvati’s hand to Mahadev, who stood by her tapasya and bowed before her divinity.

To be a husband like Ram, to be a father like Himavan — this is my sadhana, my dharma, and perhaps, my redemption.

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Not All Men. Not All Women. Just People Making Choices."

"In this cycle of birth and rebirth, today's man may return as a woman, and today's woman as a man—because the soul knows no gender. Crime, greed, and pain do not belong to one sex.
Some men demand dowry, some women exploit alimony. Some women suffer in silence, while others misuse the very laws meant to protect. But justice cannot wear a blindfold stitched with gender.
Stop blaming all men for the wrongs of a few, and stop defending men who choose to harm. Stop blaming all women for the actions of some, and stop defending women who misuse the laws meant to protect them. Justice must rise above gender—only truth deserves our defense
see the soul, see the action, and hold individuals accountable. True equality begins when we stop picking sides and start seeking truth

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Don't know if my heart is empty or just silent. No dreams left—just a shell scared of love, unsure how to love myself. Even if God stood before me, or I stood before myself… I wouldn't know what to ask. Is it love I need? Is it money? Peace? Purpose? I don’t know. I don’t even know if I’m alive… or just breathing through something already dead."

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ಲೈಫಲ್ಲಿ ಒಬ್ಬನೇ ಎಲಾದ್ರು ಹೋದಾಗಲ್ಲೆ ನಮಗೆ ನಮ್ಮ ಜೀವನ ಎನು ಅಂತ ಗೊತ್ತಾಗೋದು ನಮ್ ಜೊತೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಇರೋ ತಂದೆ ತಾಯಿಗೆ ವಯಸ್ಸು ಆಗ್ತಾ ಇದೆ ನಮಗೂ ವಯಸ್ಸಾಗ್ತಾ ಇದೆ.

ಏನಾದ್ರು ಮಾಡ್ಬೇಕಾಯ್ತು ಜೀವನದಲ್ಲಿ ಅನ್ನೋ ಯೋಚನೆ ಆದ್ರೆ ಏನು ಮಾಡೋಕೆ ಆಗಲಿಲ್ವಾಲಾ ಅನ್ನೋ ಚಿಂತೆ.

ನಾನು ತುಂಬಾ ಪ್ರಯತ್ನಿಸಬೇಕಿತ್ತು ಅನ್ನೋ ಹಂಬಲ ಅದ್ರೂ ಆಗಿದ್ ಆಯ್ತು ಮುಂದೇನಾದ್ರೂ ಏನಾದ್ರೂ ಮಾಡ್ಬೇಕು ಮಾಡ್ಲೇಬೇಕು ಅನ್ನೋ ಛಲ.

ಈವೆಲ ಚಿಂತೆ ಛಲಗಳ ಮದ್ಯೆ ಪಯಣದ 
ತಂಗಾಳಿ ಹೇಳಿತು ನೀನೂ ಅನ್ಕೊಂಡಿದೆಲಾ ಅಗೋಲ ವಿದಿ ಬರಹನಾ ಆಟ ಏನು ಇದೆಯೋ ಅದೇ ಆಗೋದು.

ಅದ್ರು  ಒಂದು ಬಾರಿ ಪ್ರಯತ್ನ ಪಡು ಆದರೇ ಗೆಲುವು ಇಲ್ಲಾ ಸೋಲು , ಸೋಲು ನಿಂಗೆ ಹೊಸದೇನಲಾ...

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For 32 years, birth has been winning. But the soul waits, knowing one day's death will have its turn—with just one prayer: when death wins, let there be no regrets.

Birth and death are two faces of the same coin called illusion. Birth keeps returning, until one day death flips the outcome—and the coin disappears, only to return when birth is forged again in the coin of life or illusion.

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June Mens mental health month
Send it to your male friends , brothers, husband who are far from home alone.

a reminder that it's okay to not be okay.

I know many men are out there fighting silent battles—going to the gym, focusing on fitness, diving into work, sports, parties, or travel.

All these are healthy distractions, yes.

But I also know that when the day ends and the sun sets, when you’re finally alone it doesn't matter if you are married or unmarried, stay with family, stay with friends, stay alone those buried emotions often return.

The ones you outran all day. And they haunt you tears role down.

To any man out there feeling alone: you can talk to us. Text us, call us—we will listen. Just listen. No judgment, no advice, no solutions.

We can be a shoulder to cry on. We are not a doctor, a therapist, or a god— we won’t promise to change your life with our words. But we can be like nature, like a quiet forest—one that hears you in silence and holds space for your pain.

You don’t have to carry it all alone."

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let’s be honest:
Women’s Day gets wide recognition, as it should — from schools to brands to social media.

But when it’s Men’s Mental Health Month or even International Men’s Day?
Hardly a mention.
Just silence.
Men can cry too.
It’s not weakness.
It’s human.

From childhood, boys are told to “man up,” “stay strong,” “don’t cry.”
But those implanted ideas are damaging. They teach silence, not strength.

A man’s loudest scream is often his silence.
He is not emotionless. He is just unheard.

To all sisters, mothers, partners, friends
Please create a space where the men in your life feel safe to open up.
And when they do never use their emotions against them.

Once broken, a man’s trust rarely returns.

Ask your brother, your husband, your father, your friend:
How are you, really?"

And wait.
Don’t rush his answer.

This "alpha/sigma" nonsense?
It’s just noise — real men feel, heal, cry, and care. That’s true strength.**

Do you know?
Men are 3 to 4 times more likely to die by suicide.
And for many, their first flower comes only at their funeral

Let’s not wait for silence to speak louder than life.
Let’s support the men around us especially those who are quietly struggling.

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Sometimes, silence and blank pages make more sense than words and sentences.
You don’t stay silent or empty because you expect something from it — it’s not deep, it’s not profound.
It’s just nothing.
But even that nothing feels better than the noise — better than talking, better than shouting.
It’s still shit, just quieter shit."

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When darkness engulfs people..
they get scared.
But me?
In that pitch black,
I see Amma Kali.

She is Kalaratri. She is Mahakali.
She is the darkness of the universe
not to blind you,but to show you the truth.
The raw.
The real.The light behind the veil.
She is the black hole
the end of all things.
And the beginning of what matters.

So when the darkness starts rising in my life,when everything starts falling apart,when silence gets loud...
I don’t run.
I listen.Because I know Maa is coming.

And when she arrives,
she beheads me.Not my body.
But my identity.My ego.
Everything I thought I knew.
Everything I thought was *me*.

She takes my severed head in her hand,like she took Raktabeeja’s blood in her kapala, no drop wasted,
no illusion spared.

She collects it all:
my karma,my attachments,my dreams,
my darkness,my light.All of it.

Because only she can burn it down.
Only she decides what stays.
What dies. What rises again.

She is the storm.She is the silence after.She is the death of illusion.
She is KALI, MY MOTHER

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To all mothers in every form and every realm my deepest gratitude.

To Mother Earth my respect and thanks.
Despite how we dig into her, scar her surface kill her children of countless species, and burn her with our greed she remains calm on the outside
still nurturing us, still protecting us.
With all the power she holds enough to wipe us out with a mere thought she continues to sustain life.

To every mother human and beyond my respect.
A mother is always a mother, no matter her form.
She carries us for nine months, bears the pain in silence, nurtures us after birth, and helps us grow physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.
And yet, too often, we cause her pain with our words, our arrogance, or by simply growing distant.
We forget: a mother's tears carry the force of the cosmos, and her blessings can move mountains.

But beware her curse, born from true sorrow, is a weight no lifetime can erase

To all mothers today, especially the modern-day warriors the empowered women who balance careers, face criticism, fight silent battles in society and workplaces, and still return home each day with love and strength I bow to you.

Thank you mother's Happy Mother’s Day.

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