In all these years, I never felt lonely—at least, not in a way I remember. But today, there’s a quiet sadness. She left for a 10-day Vipassana course in Pushkar, and though I understand its impermanence, I can’t ignore the shift within me. My breath is heavy, my eyes a little wet. When I’m busy, she quietly waits for my call, but just knowing she’s there has always been enough to keep me going. I never thought I’d be someone who feels this way. I don’t usually miss people; I don’t get attached to feelings. I live moment to moment. Yet, this time, it’s different. A day before she left, she made aloo ke paranthe for me. Before leaving, she insisted on preparing dinner so I wouldn’t have to bother with kitchen chores. She has been to many courses before, even a 20-day one, but I never felt like this. This time, it feels like a part of me is misplaced. In simple words, I miss her. And for the first time in a long while, I feel lonely today.
I am a simple human being who believes in clear communication. I don’t assume expectations from others unless they explicitly tell me, nor do I concern myself with what others think of me unless they express it in crystal-clear words. Making assumptions takes unnecessary effort, and trying to read between the lines in social situations often leads to inaccurate conclusions. I prefer to invest my energy elsewhere—on things that truly matter. This clear-headed mindset has largely been shaped by my years at Dhammathali Vipassana Centre, Jaipur, where I actively served for six years. During this time, I listened to countless stories from people of all walks of life. Over time, I noticed that human experiences tend to follow familiar patterns—the names, places, and characters may change, but the core stories remain the same. One key lesson I’ve learned is that hating people is a waste of energy. It’s far more efficient to accept people as they are and find ways to navigate relationships w...