The Unfathomed

Gentle Reminders | Healing | Art and Purpose | Mindful Living | Self-Care and Growth

Tag: millenials

Your Story Matters

Your story matters. Yes, it does. It does because you are living, evolving, barely surviving, thriving, breaking, learning, healing, mending and doing several other things — all at once. Take a moment to ponder about how fascinating it is that you are everything at once. With every passing day, you are embodying everything life has to offer, experiencing everything life throws at you, nurturing yourself by bravely accepting all that makes you grow. It’s all happening every day and you’re so in sync with it.

It’s astonishing how you are embracing everything so gracefully—the everyday hustle, the moments of comfort and satisfaction that seldom seem to come at a great expense, conditions that turn your world go upside down, consequences that leave you feeling helpless, days that make you feel heavy, cold nights that make you feel empty, struggles that mature you, heartbreaks that take away innocent parts of you, ache in your heart that reminds you of your old-self, empty pockets teaching you lessons on compromise and hunger, hollow heart pricking at your conscious begging for you to fill it with something and your constant struggle to figure out how to do that, the realities of world continually challenging your belief system, actions of others threatening your peace, situations that are making you question your worth, phases that are making you question your existence, noises that are causing you to break mentally, everyday failures that cause you to lose faith, the hustle that is leaving you tired to the bone.

Ah! The endless battle you are fighting so bravely. How bravely you wade through it all. How boldly you rise. How gracefully you accept failures, learn from them and grow. How gracefully you hold it all together even when you have every reason to let go. How beautiful, empowering and real your story is, I wish you could see, I hope you could believe and know.

What you just read is something that resonates with everyone. Yes, it does. I bet 9 out of 10 people who just read this could relate to it because they’ve lived through it. It is funny how we often lose hope and feel weak because we believe life is hard just for us, that life is unfair to us, that there is no point in trying, that there is no point in surviving hardships and even worst, believing that life is easy for others and using it as an excuse to stay stuck.

Show this piece of writing to anyone you know and I bet every person who reads this will tell you they’ve gone through it all. It is about time we stop believing life is unfair to us and start with a fresh perspective. However, the purpose of me writing this is not to persuade you into believing that you aren’t alone or that we’re all in this together but simply to tell you that YOUR STORY MATTERS.

Reason being, I’m utterly fascinated with stories I hear and by this, I don’t mean the ones I read in books but the ones I hear from people I know — common people’s life story is what fascinates me. Stories of everyone around me intrigue me. Although I only know parts of their lives, I often feel their story is worth something. I tried keeping it all in, hoping my fascination (or should I rather say obsession) will end but the more people I meet the more I feel the urge to show them what a miracle they are. I want to write about people. Yes, right now, this is exactly what I want to do. I’m not sure about the future but in the current phase of my life, I want to fuel this fascination of mine and write stories — unedited, unfinished, clumsy, inspiring yet beautiful real-life stories of people. Stories of people I know closely, not so closely, acquaintances, about every beautiful being I have/had an encounter with.

It’s no secret that I like posting raw first drafts of my writings and now, it is exhilarating for me to visualize how beautiful it will be to write, appreciate and share raw stories of people I know.

Before I end this post, here’s something I want to say—Everything we go through shapes us into who we are truly meant to be, it pushes us to explore our potential and through it all, this simple thing called life takes us on a roller coaster ride where we confront several complex things, people and feeling and learn lessons from them with fervor and grace. We read stories of success and failure online, in books and newspapers; about people who made it to the top and about those who lost everything and turned into dust but what about the stories that surround us, the ones that are simple yet extraordinary. Why do they often go unnoticed? And what about your own story?

I’m writing this because I know it in my heart that every story is worth something and that every story matters.

All I ask of you is to believe that your story matters.

As much as I’m dying to write real-life stories, I also respect everyone’s privacy and wouldn’t do it without their consent.

So this is an open invitation (a request, in fact) to everyone I know and to everyone who knows me, will you allow me to write about you and bring your story to light?

If yes, kindly reach out to me and I’d be more than happy to even be a mere narrator of your beautiful journey.

Love & light,


Fighting Injustice and Crimes – We DON’T need AWARENESS, We need ACTION.

Get OFFLINE. You cannot make a real difference by hitting those like, comment or share buttons. If we can’t stand injustice and crib about these malicious acts growing around us, we need to get off our asses and do something. Ask questions, get answers that have an actual outcome and act. Is posting on social media going to make a difference? Will ranting about rapists on Instagram story help a girl child feel safe? NO. The audience you are targeting is well-educated. You sharing your views of do’s and don’ts is not reaching the right people. Those who are sick in the head won’t hear you through Instagram stories and there is no need for you to get them to hear or understand you anyway. The focus is on the victims and those surrounding them. While many are trying to protect women by protesting and fighting, maybe some of us can focus on those who are already affected. What about those who survived it, the families that lost a daughter, the sister whose brother turned out to be a rapist, the women whose husband raped her and tried to kill her but was rescued, the child who saw her mother burn herself alive — they’re all victims too. You can’t stop something from happening but you can at least make things better for someone who has/is enduring that trauma. You never know which victim will turn out to be another Malala or Oprah, you never know who’ll go on set an example and be wildly influential to little girls. I know it’s a never-ending list but with the number of people showing hate and opposing like the behavior of criminals online these days, I think many of these victims can be helped. Their faith in humanity can be restored and their lives can be made normal again. I know this sounds off topic because we’re all too focused on stopping injustice but the truth is words don’t mean anything until backed with actions. Sometimes we can’t save everyone but we can teach a few to save themselves. So instead of venting out on social media and hoping to make a difference, get out and do something that’ll actually make a difference.

Find a group of kids and educate them on simple matters like respect, equality and the real meaning of masculinity. Find a group of women and inspire them to raise their kids with the right values and morals. Find a group of adults and have discussions on what can be done. Trust me, the probability of this bringing a change is much higher than a few lines written on any social media platform. I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again, with social media posts you are targeting the WRONG AUDIENCE. Find a pattern and act on it. Educate those who don’t have the privilege of using social media for knowledge or even lack the resources to attend school. I’m writing this because I’m tired of these countless posts and stories showing up on my account about crime and social injustice. Next time I see someone ranting about a minor’s rape case or sharing screenshot with a sad emoji and abuses, I’ll either fucking block those accounts or bluntly ask that person what he/she is really doing to stop it or even to just minimize the loss. I’m not bothered about my follower count and I’m not afraid of losing any because the bitter truth is posting things online has become an outlet for many; to let those emotions out, when the humanity inside you screams, you throw it all here and get rid of that guilt and feel as though you’ve done your part. It is not right.


We’re all well aware of what’s happening around us, we don’t need your screenshots about such incidents, we have media and newspapers for that. So next time you feel sad about an innocent being raped and killed, instead of repeating what’s already known, please please please tell everyone about what can be done to stop it. Share with us some effective steps that you believe can be taken to keep children safe or how little contribution can be made through actions. Instead of telling everyone how heartbroken you are reading about rapes and murders, share images of you doing something about and maybe that’ll inspire others to do the same. And maybe that’ll actually MAKE A DIFFERENCE. The world survives on hope and being bitter about injustice isn’t helping. Quit calling yourself an activist and be an actionist. Show everyone the path, not the dirty, tainted mirror.

Thank you for reading.

Man with the most beautiful smile

It was a Friday afternoon. Feeling ravenously hungry, I walked down the street to the other side of the road and entered a small outlet that serves sandwiches. It is run by a middle-aged lady and her adolescent son. I was a regular customer there and the lady had always been too kind to me; she politely tried to teach me Tamil every time I visited the place. I walked in, she greeted me with a graceful smile and started conversing in Tamil. Again. She knew I won’t understand a thing but that didn’t stop her from trying. The look in her eyes and the broad smile on her smile made me want to try learning what she was so hell-bent on teaching. I place my order and looked around for a place to settle down.

There he was.

Without a second thought, I rushed to his table and asked if I can sit with him. Looking at me with a smile spreading on his face, he agreed and gestured at me to grab a chair. I instantly knew this was going to be a great meal. I looked at him, trying too hard to not scare him away with my strange behavior.

After awhile, ”You are a little too excited to have a sandwich, don’t you think?” , he said with a grin spreading across his face.

I felt slightly embarrassed and we both burst out laughing.

There he was, a frail old man, dressed in a white dhoti and kurta; with a Gandhi cap covering his head and eyes full of wisdom hiding behind a tiny frame of glasses.

We began talking, shared our whereabouts and the smile on his face kept growing brighter. “I am here visiting my granddaughter”, he told me. Thinking back to the times my grandpa visited me in the city, I smiled. He began telling me about his first job, family and shared stories of all the places he has been to. Every story of his ended with a gentle smile on his face and I swear, I haven’t seen anything so beautiful in my entire life. I noticed he hasn’t ordered anything and asked him if he would like to share a glass of juice with me. The smile vanished. I was afraid I said something wrong but decided to insist on him and after a bit of faltering, he simply nodded. I asked him what his favorite fruit was and with another cute smile, “grape,” he answered. When the food came, I was hesitant to offer my sandwich since it had lots of cheese in it, and I assumed, being in his 70’s, he would probably be restricted to eat something of this kind. After a lot of persuasions, he agreed on having a vegetable sandwich to keep me company. He looked adorable sipping on that straw and we spent the next 10 mins in silence finishing our meal. After finishing the drink, he slowly got up and started walking towards the counter. I stood up attempting to help him with the glass he was holding and turns out he wanted to pay for both of us. He took out a hundred rupee note and walked to the counter. After a 5 min (non-violent) argument, he agreed to let me pay for the meal and we walked back to the table.

I could sense something was wrong and the moment I looked up I saw tears welling up in his eyes. I started to panic and asked him if he was feeling unwell. He held my hand gesturing for me to be seated and the words that left his mouth made my heart ache. He started off by apologizing to have lied to me and what followed left me dumbstruck. Turns out he wasn’t in the city to meet his granddaughter, he was here to give his signatures on the legal documents of his property; stating he agrees to pass it on to his son. He told me he had come all the way just to see his son who hasn’t visited him in 5 years. He wished to see his granddaughter but the girl was deliberately sent off to school early and her parents are ashamed of the man who wears a dhoti-kurta. Despite being hungry, he didn’t order for food because he only had little money with him; enough for the bus fare back to his hometown. He was there killing time until he could board the bus back to the village. He got emotional to a point where he told me ”I could hear my stomach grumbling yet decided to stay put and skip on my mid-day medicines because I want to reach home on time as my wife gets worried at smallest of things. But then, you walked in and here I am with a full tummy”, he chuckled.

It was heartbreaking.

Looking him in the eye hurt.

How often do we practice gratitude? How often do we attempt to look past a person’s flaws or physical appearance and love them for being their real self? How often do we find ourselves being kind and compassionate?

Hell, how often do we really behave like humans?

These are the kind of questions I believe we need to ask ourselves and people around us on a daily basis. Stuck in the cycle of money, business, success and luxury, we are losing sight of life; its true value, meaning and the purpose. we weren’t put on this planet to slog day and night, earn money, chase fame, build reputation in a delusional society only to find yourself lying on the death bed one day in some private hospital, trying to find solace in the fact that we can somehow afford to undergo an expensive treatment for diseases we barely know anything about.

Elderly abuse has always been an issue of concern in my life. If there’s one that breaks my heart, this is it. People who bring you into this world, hold you close to their heart and soul, love you unconditionally and most of all, make sacrifices for your comfort, are left stranded during final hours of their lives.

Looking at him and hearing those words fall out of his mouth broke my heart. It didn’t make me angry, neither did it make me want to hate the man who put his father in such a situation. In fact, I instantly felt an extreme amount of pity for the son. For I knew, he was destined to destruction.

There was absolutely nothing I could do at the moment except to offer him some amount of money after paying for his meal. Which, he obviously refused to accept. Being a resident of a small village in Maharashtra, the only languages he spoke were Marathi and Hindi.

And the words he said before leaving the place stayed with me forever. He told me I was god-sent and he’d want me as his daughter in lives to come.

We both laughed, I walked him out and we parted ways.

Yet, his aura stayed with me and the man with the most beautiful smile is still fresh in my memory.

Here’s a piece of poetry for him,

He was beautiful

Not the kind that made your heart beat faster, cheeks blush or knees tremble


He was the kind of beautiful that made your heart swell

and your mind calm

Who — for a brief amount of time — wrest you of all the worldly worries

with his tender smile

If there is one thing you take away from reading this today, let it be this: Elderly abuse is not something to be ignored or treated as a casual scenario. It is one of the most subtly happening but brutal forms of injustice; something that is silently spreading around the society like plague and it is about time we acknowledge its presence and eradicate it.

As a responsible citizen, a daughter/son, a human being, it is our prime responsibility to take care of the generation that raised us.

After all, they are the reason for our existence.

If you liked what you read and wish to Make a Difference, head over to HelpAge India’s website. A little donation or even a small act of volunteering can make a huge difference to the lives of elders associated with this organization.

Thank you for reading!

Love & light,


© 2021 The Unfathomed

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑


Hello, beautiful human. Thank you for being here! If you enjoy reading my work, share it with a loved one :)