The Habit of Seeking Approval!

“ಮನ್ನಣೆಯ ದಾಹ ಎಲ್ಲಕು ಮೊದಲು ತಿನ್ನುವುದು ಆತ್ಮವನ್ನೇ.”

- ಡಿ.ವಿ. ಗುಂಡಪ್ಪ (ಡಿವಿಜಿ)

The thirst for validation destroys the soul before anything else.

The more I grow, observe people, and reflect on life, the more I realize how deeply society runs on validation.

Some seek validation through success.

Some through appearance.

Some through social status.

And many, without even realizing it, slowly begin to live entirely based on what others think of them.

And that is where the problem begins!

Because a person constantly dependent on validation: cannot rest, cannot be authentic, cannot live freely.

Their happiness is always tied to someone else’s opinion.

Somewhere along the way, many of us stopped living and started performing.

We smile for acceptance.

We hide emotions to appear strong.

We chase achievements not always because we want them—but because they make us look valuable in society.

Even pain today seeks approval.

And social media has only amplified this further.

Likes became self-worth.

Attention became achievement.

Visibility became value. 

I also feel this quietly affects mental health more than we realize.

Take something as common as body shaming, A person may be perfectly healthy, kind, capable, and emotionally strong. Yet one careless comment about appearance can slowly shake their confidence—not because the comment defines them, but because society conditioned them to seek acceptance externally.

I sometimes notice this in workplaces too—especially in IT culture.

With deadlines, responsibilities, and constant expectations, it is natural for many of us to value appreciation and acknowledgment. A kind word from a manager, recognition in a meeting, or a good appraisal can genuinely motivate and encourage us.

But somewhere along the way, if we are not careful, we may slowly begin depending too much on external validation to feel confident about ourselves.

And over time, that can quietly become tiring emotionally.

That is emotional dependency disguised as ambition.

Over time, I’ve started asking myself a simple question:

If nobody applauded me, would I still do what I’m doing?

That question changes everything.

Because authenticity begins where performance ends.

Authenticity is not rebellion.

It is not carelessness.

It simply means:

- being comfortable with who we are

without constantly editing ourselves for acceptance!

And honestly, this is easier said than done.

We all want to be understood. Appreciated. Accepted.

That is human.

But somewhere, a line must exist between: 👉 seeking love

and

👉 losing ourselves for approval.

There’s a line I once heard, and despite my broken Hindi 😅, it stayed with me deeply:

“Woh tha zindagi mein… jab tak zinda tha, woh sochta raha — ‘woh chaar log kya kahenge?’

Lekin marne ke waqt poocha — ‘kahan hai woh chaar log?’

Kabhi mile hi nahi.”

How true is that.

So much of life is sacrificed for imaginary audiences.

People postpone happiness.

Hide their truth.

Suppress their individuality.

All because of “log kya kahenge.”

And in the process, they slowly drift away from themselves.

Maybe real peace begins when:

appreciation becomes optional.

authenticity becomes natural.

and self-worth comes from within.

Not from applause!

Because at the end of the day, no amount of external validation can compensate for inner emptiness.

So today, I remind myself of something simple.

Live honestly.

Express freely.

Improve continuously.

But don’t let the need for validation consume your peace.

Because the moment we stop performing for the world, we finally begin to live for ourselves.

Maybe the Bhagavad Gita was never asking us to stop caring about results.

Maybe it was asking us not to lose ourselves while chasing them.

So perhaps the real freedom in life is not in being approved by everyone…

but in being able to live honestly, peacefully, and authentically with ourselves.

— Shock

The Witness Within!

There are moments in life that don’t ask for belief.

They don’t demand logic either.

They simply… happen.

And in those moments, I’ve felt something unusual —

as if I’ve witnessed gods speaking to each other,

as if I’ve seen a human stand before something far greater than himself.

Not in a supernatural sense.

Not in blind superstition.

But in retrospect — in awareness.

I’ve seen questions I once carried quietly within me

unfold into answers… right in front of my eyes.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

But undeniably.

And in that space, I also witnessed something deeper —

a silent duel.

Between truth and faith.

Between belief and doubt.

Both equally strong.

Both equally convincing.

For a moment, the mind wants to take control.

To analyse. To question. To label.

To decide what is real and what is not.

But then a realization settles in —

Who am I to question something I’m not even part of?

Not everything we experience is meant to be solved.

Some things are meant to be felt.

The essence of a miracle is not in proving it.

Not in defending it.

Not in denying it.

It is in experiencing it.

In receiving it.

In celebrating it.

In simply feeling… blessed.

Because perhaps the universe doesn’t always speak in answers.

Sometimes, it speaks in experiences —

and leaves the understanding to unfold within us.

We often look outward, trying to find our place in this vast existence.

We search in the skies, in knowledge, in endless questioning.

But your place in this universe

is not found by looking deeper into space.

It is found by going deeper into yourself.

And that journey…

is not comfortable for everyone.

Because it demands stillness.

It demands honesty.

It demands letting go of control.

So the real question is not what you witnessed.

The real question is —

Are you ready to witness yourself?

And perhaps, as echoed in the wisdom of the Bhagavad Gita —

you are not here to control every outcome,

nor to decode every mystery that unfolds before you.

You are here to experience,

to act with sincerity,

and to surrender the rest.

When you stop trying to own every answer,

you begin to receive every moment.

When you stop questioning every miracle,

you begin to recognize the divine in it.

And when you finally turn inward —

not with doubt, but with awareness —

you realize,

you were never just a witness to the universe.

You were always, a part of its unfolding.

- Shock 

Reminder to Self: Reset, Recharge, Rebound and Recalibrate.

There are phases in life where everything feels aligned. Things fall into place. Efforts feel meaningful. There is a sense of rhythm.

And then, there are phases where things slowly drift.

Not in a big, noticeable way.
Just small shifts. Missed intentions. Delayed actions. A sense that something is slightly off.

And before I realize it, I’m not out of control—but I’m not fully in it either.

For a long time, I thought the goal was to stay consistent at all times, to never break rhythm.

But life doesn’t work that way.

Now I’m beginning to understand something much simpler.

It’s not about never falling off track.
It’s about knowing how to come back to it.

That’s where this reminder comes in.

Reset. Recharge. Rebound. Recalibrate.

---

Reset

For me, a reset is not about starting over.
It is about starting again—with awareness.

Without overthinking what didn’t go right.
Without carrying unnecessary weight from the past.

Just pausing… and beginning again.

---

Recharge

Sometimes, what looks like inconsistency is actually exhaustion.

We keep pushing, expecting ourselves to always be at the same level.
But life demands energy—from work, from relationships, from responsibilities.

Taking a moment to recharge is not stepping back.
It is preparing to move forward better.

---

Rebound

What matters is not how perfectly we move forward,
but how honestly we return.

Rebounding is not about intensity.
It is about intention.

A small step.
A conscious action.
A simple decision to show up again.

---

Recalibrate

This is something I’m learning deeply.

Recalibration is what sustains consistency.

Because consistency is not about perfection.
It is about adjustment.

Understanding where I am.
Realigning with what matters.
And continuing—without pressure.

---

Anchor to Identity

Instead of chasing outcomes, I’m learning to anchor myself to identity.

Not what I have to do,
but who I choose to be.

Because when identity is clear, actions follow naturally.

---

Rebuild Momentum

I used to wait for motivation.

But I’ve realized—motivation is temporary, discipline is permanent… and momentum is what brings it back.

Momentum is built in small ways:

• showing up
• doing what I can
• repeating it

And more importantly, acknowledging those small efforts.

Giving myself credit for showing up—even when it’s not perfect.

---

There is one simple thought I keep coming back to:

Control what you can. Accept what you can’t.

I cannot control everything that happens.
But I can always choose my next step.

And maybe that is where my real power lies.

---

I recently came across a line from Virat Kohli, said in a witty way, that stayed with me:

“If you win, you celebrate. If not, you recalibrate.” 😁

And it couldn’t be simpler than that.

Because life is not about getting it right every time.
It’s about knowing how to respond when things don’t go as planned.

---

So this is a reminder to myself.

Not to chase perfection.
Not to be hard on myself.

But to:

Reset. Recharge. Rebound. Recalibrate.

And simply… show up again.

While I write this, I find myself thinking—

This is where my journey of recovery began 6 months ago.
And today, I find myself back at what looks like "square one"—but this time, not the same person.

This time, I start again with experience, awareness, and a little more wisdom.

If this resonates with you in any way, I’d love to hear your experience too.

— Shock

Easter — A Quiet Reminder of Hope

Easter, as widely understood, marks the resurrection of Jesus Christ—a symbol of hope, renewal, and the triumph of life over suffering. It reminds us that even after the darkest phases, there is always a possibility of rising again.

For those who follow Jesus, Easter is also a reminder of his sacrifice, his compassion, and his unwavering faith in love and forgiveness—even in the face of suffering. That message, to me, goes beyond religion. It speaks to something deeply human—the strength to endure, to forgive, and to rise again with hope.

When I reflect on Easter, I don’t just see it as a celebration. I see it as a reminder.

A reminder that life will test us. There will be phases where things feel uncertain, heavy, and even unfair. But somewhere within that, there is always a chance to begin again.

Not everything in life goes the way we expect. Not every effort gives immediate results. But Easter, in its own way, tells me that endings are not always the end—sometimes they are just a transition.

What also stands out to me is the idea of empathy.

When I look around, I realize that many people are going through silent battles. Struggles that are not visible. Emotions that are not expressed. And often, we move through life without noticing them.

Maybe as a society, this is what we need to take from Easter—not just hope for ourselves, but assurance for others.

A small act of kindness.

A moment of listening.

A gesture that says, “You’re not alone.”

Because sometimes, that is all it takes for someone to rise again.

I also feel that celebrations like Easter are not just about remembering what happened, but about asking ourselves a simple question:

What does this mean in my life today?

Am I holding on to hope when things don’t go my way?

Am I showing empathy to people around me?

Am I allowing myself and others the space to heal and begin again?

Maybe that is where the real meaning lies.

Not just in worship.

But in understanding.

Not just in belief.

But in how we live that belief.

So this Easter, I remind myself of something simple.

To hold on to hope.

To be kinder than necessary.

To give people the space to rise, just like I would want for myself.

Because in the end, hope is not something we wait for. It is something we choose.

Wishing everyone a peaceful and hopeful Easter.

— Shock

This Ram Navami — Beyond Worship

Ram Navami is often seen as a celebration. The birth of Lord Rama. The embodiment of dharma. The ideal human — Maryada Purushottama.

But every year, I find myself asking a simple question.

Is this day only about remembering Rama?

Or is it about understanding what Rama stood for—and what it means for us today?

We call Rama the ideal man. A man of principles. A symbol of truth, discipline, and righteousness. But what makes him relevant even today is not just what he did… but how we interpret what he did.

Because the world Rama lived in is not the world we live in today.

It has been yugas.

Time has changed. Society has changed. Situations have changed. But one thing hasn’t changed—the need for clarity in how we choose to live.

When we listen to the Ramayana, we often divide everything into two simple categories—good and bad. Right and wrong. But life is rarely that simple.

What is right from one perspective may not be right from another.

There is a saying I once came across:

"In a jungle, do not expect the lion not to eat you just because you won’t eat it".

Life operates on its own rules. And understanding those rules requires more than devotion—it requires awareness and interpretation.

So maybe Ram Navami is not just about worshipping Rama. Maybe it is about learning how to think like him.

To understand: 

When to stand firm on principles

When to adapt

When to act

And when to accept

Because dharma is not always fixed.

It is not a rulebook. It is a responsibility.

A responsibility to act with awareness, integrity, and balance in the situation we are in.

And that is not easy.

If anything, it requires more effort today than ever before.

Because today, we are not just influenced by society—we are overwhelmed by it. Opinions, expectations, judgments… everywhere.

In all this noise, it becomes easier to follow blindly than to think deeply. But Rama’s life was never about blind following. It was about conscious living.

There is something else I’ve started to realize; We often try to take only the “good” from these stories and reject the “difficult” or uncomfortable parts. But both matter. The right things should inspire us. The wrong—or what feels wrong—should make us think. Because both are part of understanding. After all, good and bad are often just two ends of a perspective.

So this Ram Navami, maybe we can pause for a moment.

Not just to pray.

But to reflect.

To ask ourselves:

What does dharma mean in my life today?

Am I living by awareness, or just by habit?

Am I following, or am I understanding?

Because celebrating Rama is not just about devotion.

It is about direction.

A direction towards living with clarity, responsibility, and empathy.

And maybe, in today’s world, that is what we need the most.

— Shock

This Ugadi… Unveil Yourself❤️

Ugadi has always been a special festival at home. For us, it is more than just the beginning of a new year—it is a reminder that life constantly renews itself. A new calendar page, a new season, a new energy. With it comes a quiet invitation to pause, reflect, and begin again.

Every Ugadi, we celebrate with the traditional bevu-bella—a beautiful mix of bitterness and sweetness. It reminds us that the coming year, like life itself, will carry many flavors. Joy and challenges, comfort and uncertainty, victories and lessons. Yet we welcome it all with hope.

Over time, I have begun to see another meaning in this festival.

A new year is not only about new resolutions or new plans. It is also an opportunity to unveil ourselves.

Somewhere along the journey of life, layers quietly begin to build around us. Expectations, responsibilities, insecurities, the need to be accepted, the fear of being misunderstood. Without even realizing it, we start wearing masks—versions of ourselves designed to fit into the world around us.

For a long time, I believed life was about becoming someone new. About building a stronger personality, proving capability, achieving milestones, earning validation. But slowly I’ve started to feel that life might actually be about something much simpler.

Maybe life is not about becoming, but about revealing.

Unveiling ourselves means gently removing the layers that hide our authentic nature. It means allowing ourselves to be honest, even when honesty feels uncomfortable. It means realizing that authenticity is not perfection—it is simply being real.

In a world that constantly encourages polished appearances, choosing authenticity can feel vulnerable. But I have come to understand that vulnerability is not weakness. It is a quiet form of courage. It is allowing yourself to be seen exactly as you are—still learning, still growing, still human.

The more I reflect on this, the more I realize that our true self does not need to be built. It already exists beneath the surface. Our task is simply to uncover it.

And this process does not happen overnight. It requires reflection, patience, and honesty with ourselves. Sometimes it even requires letting go of the version of us that others are comfortable with.

But every time we move a little closer to our authentic self, something shifts. Life feels lighter. The pressure to maintain an image fades. What remains is a quiet freedom—the freedom to simply be.

In many ways, it feels like unveiling a sculpture hidden inside stone. The beauty was always there. It only needed patience and courage to remove what was unnecessary.

Perhaps that is what Ugadi is truly reminding us.

A new year is not just a new calendar—it is an opportunity to rediscover who we are. To reset our intentions. To live with greater honesty, empathy, and awareness.

This Ugadi, I remind myself of something simple.

Unveil yourself.

Not to impress the world.

Not to prove anything to anyone.

But to live with authenticity and peace.

And maybe, just maybe, when one person begins to live honestly, it quietly encourages others to do the same.

Wishing you and your loved ones a very happy Ugadi—a year filled with clarity, courage, empathy, and new beginnings.

May this new year bring you the strength to reveal your true self and the wisdom to live it fully.

— Shock

Happy Women's Day💃

“ಹೆಣ್ಣೊಂದು ಕಲಿತರೆ ಶಾಲೆಯೊಂದು ತೆರೆದಂತೆ” — 'when a woman is educated, it is equivalent to opening a school'. These words beautifully capture the capability, responsibility, and the immense good a woman can bring to society. A woman does not just grow herself; she nurtures, educates, and shapes the world around her.

This Women’s Day, as conversations around equality grow stronger, I find myself reflecting on a simple thought. When women are already such a powerful driving force of families and society, the conversation about equality is not about proving capability—it is about recognizing and respecting the strength that has always been there. True equality is not about comparison or competition; it is about standing together with mutual respect and opportunity.

Our traditions have always recognized the power of the feminine. Without Shakti, even Shiva remains still. Women are not just equal contributors to society — they are often the force that nurtures and sustains it. As a famous line goes, “With great power comes great responsibility.” Women have always carried this responsibility—often quietly, often gracefully.

As someone who speaks about mental health awareness, I have come across many realities where women are still going through struggles that remain unseen or unheard. It is easy to ask whether society is responsible for it. But meaningful change often begins closer to home. You can only control what you can control. Be vocal. Share what you feel. Let your husband, brother, son, or friend know what you are going through. Express yourself. Create awareness. Support each other. When voices come together, silence slowly disappears.

At the same time, I must acknowledge something with deep respect. Balancing responsibilities inside and outside the home is not easy. Yet the women around me have always made it look effortless. Watching them handle life with strength and grace is truly inspiring.

And to the men reading this — sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is simply listen. Not to solve, not to advise, but to let the women around you know that you are there, that you care, and that they are not alone.

After all, wo’men’ need ‘men’ to be complete, and men cannot exist without women. Society moves forward not through competition, but through mutual support and understanding. 

On this note, I would like to take a moment to thank three incredible women in my life who have helped shape the person I am today.

My mother, Manjula ❤️ — for teaching me empathy, courage, and positivity.

My sister from another mother, Ranjitha ❤️ — for your wisdom and your “go with the flow” attitude that has guided me many times.

My wife, Latha ❤️ — my courage, my strength, and my love.

Happy Women’s Day to all the incredible women who continue to inspire the world every single day ❤️

Before I close, one last thought. Our society needs more empathy than ever before. Along with women’s empowerment, we must also continue conversations around mental health — including men’s mental health, something I strongly believe in.

A better society is built when we support each other with understanding, compassion, and respect.

Thank you.

— Shock

Joy Is Not the Outcome!!

“Everything happens for a reason,” people say.

Sometimes I don’t know the reason. And sometimes, I’m tired of trying to find one.

There are days when I want life to make sense in a clean, organized way. I want every pain to come with an explanation, every struggle to end with a lesson neatly underlined. But real life doesn’t work like that. Some things happen without warning. Some questions don’t get answers. Some chapters don’t come with closure. And I’m slowly learning that this doesn’t mean life is unfair—it just means life is honest.

I still choose to believe that everything happens for good. Not because I’m always convinced. Not because I’m always strong. Not because I’m wise. Just because it is a way to choose happiness 😊

Sometimes belief is not about being right. Sometimes it’s just about staying afloat.

Uncertainty is simply a part of life. 

I used to see it as something I had to fix or get rid of. Now I see it differently. Uncertainty is not a bug in life—it’s a feature. If everything were predictable, there would be no growth, no learning, no becoming. Life is a bit like the weather—you dress accordingly, you carry an umbrella, and still, sometimes, you end up getting soaked. And that’s okay.

What exhausts me the most is not uncertainty, but where I place my attention. I spend so much time counting what I don’t have, what I couldn’t do, the versions of myself  I didn’t become, the life that could have been but isn’t. In doing that, I forget to look at what I do have, what I have done, how far I’ve already come—even if it doesn’t look impressive on paper.

I’m learning that my real control is very limited—and that’s not a bad thing. I can control my effort. I can control my intent. I can control the way I show up. But I cannot control outcomes. I cannot control timing. I cannot control how life responds to my plans. Most of my stress comes from trying to control what was never in my hands to begin with. May be now I might start to realize Krishna's saying in Bhagavad-Gita, which I already knew.

Somewhere in all this planning and worrying, I forget something simple: life is only happening now. Not in the past I keep replaying. Not in the future I keep preparing for. But in this moment—where I’m breathing, thinking, trying, failing, learning, and starting again. Staying in the moment is not easy. My mind constantly travels—to regrets, to hopes, to fears. But every time I come back to now, I realize this is the only place where anything real can happen. This is something beautifully explored in the Kannada movie Uppi 2 by Upendra—how we often live everywhere except the present. This moment may not be perfect. It may not even be comfortable. But it is honest. And that makes it enough.

I often ask myself if I’m doing what I enjoy. And when the answer is not always yes, I ask a gentler question: can I learn to enjoy what I’m doing? There is a quiet peace in accepting where I am, without giving up on where I want to go.

For a long time, I treated joy like a destination—like something waiting for me at the end of a long journey, like a reward I would finally deserve once everything was in place.

Now I’m beginning to see it differently.

Joy is not the outcome. Joy is the process.

It’s in showing up even when I’m unsure.

It’s in trying again after failing.

It’s in small efforts, quiet progress, and honest days.

It’s in becoming, not arriving.

I don’t have everything figured out. But I’m here. I’m learning. I’m still walking.

And maybe, for now, that’s enough.

— Shock

Shiva: The Space Within — On Shivaratri, Surrender, and Becoming

Most of us grow up hearing that Shiva means “the auspicious one.”

But over time, I’ve come to resonate more with another interpretation often spoken about by modern teachers like Sadhguru — Shiva as “that which is not.” Not a person, not a form, not an idea — but the vast nothingness from which everything arises.

At first, this sounds abstract. But the more I reflect on life, the more this begins to feel deeply practical.

Because every real transformation I’ve experienced didn’t come from adding more to myself — it came from dropping something. Dropping fear. Dropping attachment. Dropping the need to control outcomes. In that sense, Shiva isn’t somewhere outside us. Shiva is that inner space we touch when we stop clinging and start allowing life to flow.

Shivaratri Is Not About Ritual — It’s About Stillness

For me, Shivaratri is less about staying awake through the night and more about becoming aware. A reminder to sit with silence. To observe how noisy the mind is. To notice how often we are trying to fix, force, or figure out everything.

In that silence, something interesting happens.

You don’t become weaker. You become clearer.

And clarity, I’ve learned, is far more powerful than control.

Surrender Is Not Giving Up — It’s Lining Up

We often misunderstand surrender. We think it means giving up effort. It doesn’t.

Surrender means giving up resistance.

There’s a very thin line between destiny and effort.

Effort is your responsibility.

Outcome is not.

When you do your part sincerely and still remain open to what life brings, that’s surrender. Not helplessness. Not passivity. But trust without laziness and action without anxiety.

In my own journey, the moments I suffered the most were not because I didn’t try hard enough—but because I was too attached to how things should turn out. The moment I loosened that grip, things didn’t magically become easy—but they became lighter.

That lightness is Shiva.

Why Shiva Is Not Just Spiritual — But Deeply Human

Shiva is often seen as detached, ascetic, silent.

But look closer, and you’ll see something else: empathy.

He accepts everyone — the broken, the lost, the misunderstood. He sits with poison in his throat so the world can survive. Symbolically, that’s what empathy is: the willingness to hold discomfort so that others may breathe easier.

In daily life, we do this too—when we listen without fixing, when we stay present without judging, when we hold space instead of offering solutions. That, to me, is living Shiva.

Shiva as a Guide, Not a God to Fear

You don’t have to be religious to walk this path.

You don’t even have to believe in forms.

If Shiva represents anything, it is this:

The courage to empty yourself of what you are not.

The wisdom to act without being enslaved by results.

The compassion to stay human in a world that rewards hardness.

In that sense, Shiva is not a destination.

Shiva is a direction.

A reminder that success is not just about achievement, but about alignment.

Not just about reaching somewhere, but about becoming someone who is at peace with the journey.

This Shivaratri

Maybe we don’t need to ask for more.

Maybe we need to drop a little.

Drop some fear.

Drop some ego.

Drop some noise.

And sit—just for a moment—in that quiet space within.

That space… is Shiva.

— Shock

#ShocksPerspective

Putting Myself Together✌️😎

Life, they say, must go on.

Life keeps unfolding, regardless of what we’re carrying within us. Some days it feels gentle, other days overwhelming — but it never stops moving.

The death of my father didn’t hit me immediately.

When it happened, I went into a deeper state of sorrow than I had ever known — but strangely, not in tears. There was an unspoken pressure to be practical, to show strength, to appear composed before society. I was confused and believed staying composed was the same as being strong. More than that, I couldn’t mourn to the fullest because I was afraid to accept the reality that he was no more. Somewhere between responsibilities and expectations, I convinced myself that this was what coping looked like. In doing so, I never allowed myself to grieve fully.

As days passed, the silence grew louder.

I began missing my father like never before — in everyday moments, in thoughts I wanted to share, in reflexes that still expected his presence. Slowly, almost unnoticed, I started slipping into what felt like depression! Daily life began to feel heavy. Commute, work, routine — everything felt out of control. I lost my calm frequently. My mind turned restless. I punished myself mentally with endless overthinking — a kind of mental diarrhea that wouldn’t let me rest.

It took one quiet moment of honesty to realize: something isn’t right.

That realization didn’t come dramatically. It came gently — like a tap on the shoulder from within. I paused and turned inward. I’ve always believed in introspection, but this time it wasn’t philosophical or occasional — it was necessary for survival. For five to six days, I sat with my thoughts, my emotions, and my questions. I even used a bit of ChatGPT — not for answers, but to help me frame the questions I was afraid to ask myself.

What I discovered wasn’t new, but it was confronting.

The root of my suffering was attachment. I wasn’t just grieving my father — I was resisting a reality I could not change. I was attached to how things were supposed to be, to the version of life where he still existed physically, to the comfort of certainty. That resistance amplified the pain. Once I saw this clearly, something shifted. I realized that mourning doesn’t have one correct form. I had mourned — just not in tears or rituals. I mourned through silence, through responsibility, through carrying on when I wasn’t ready.

Alongside introspection, I found unexpected strength in simple spiritual reinforcements. Listening to Namakam, Chamakam, and the Hanuman Chalisa! It wasn’t about devotion or ritual for me — it was about grounding. The rhythm, the familiarity, and the calm they brought, helped steady my mind on days when thoughts refused to slow down. They gave me structure when emotions felt scattered, and silence when my mind was too loud. In many ways, they became anchors — not of faith alone, but of inner stability

Acceptance didn’t erase the pain — but it softened it.

I began to understand that my father wouldn’t have wanted me to suffer endlessly. Wherever he is, I believe he would want us to live fully, to be happy, and to move forward with strength — not sorrow. Honoring him didn’t mean holding on to grief forever; it meant choosing life consciously. Celebrating life — just as sincerely in death as in birth.

This process didn’t “fix” me overnight.

But it helped me start putting myself together — piece by piece. I learned to be kinder to my mind. To pause when thoughts spiral. To remind myself that strength isn’t silence, and healing isn’t linear. Mental health isn’t something that breaks suddenly; it erodes quietly when ignored. Today, I’m still learning. Still missing him. Still human. But I’m calmer. More aware. More accepting. I’ve stopped fighting what I cannot control and started focusing on how I choose to live. 

Life, after all, is fair in its own way. It gives us choices — even in grief. Especially in grief.

Putting myself together didn’t mean becoming whole again. It meant allowing myself to be incomplete — and still choosing to live fully.

And finally, I’ve come to realize this: this is not a destination, but a process — ongoing, imperfect, and deeply personal. Putting yourself together is something you return to, again and again, at different stages of life. It is important for every one of us, whether we acknowledge it or not. I’m reminded of a simple yet powerful line from Virat Kohli — if you win, you celebrate; if not, you recalibrate 😉. That, perhaps, is life in its simplest form: honor the moments of joy, learn from the moments of loss, and keep moving forward with awareness.

— Shock

Escape from the Matrix! 🫣😝😁

“We think we are watching screens,

but slowly, screens are shaping the way we think.”

When I say television, I’m not limiting it to the literal box in our living rooms.

I mean everything we consume through screens — TV, OTT platforms, streaming services, mobile phones, social media… all of it.

A person’s traits are deeply influenced by what they are fed — mentally and physically — during childhood and while growing up.

“What we consume quietly becomes who we are.”

Now pause and reflect.

What are we feeding our minds today?

This modern-day television — as I choose to define it — has become the primary diet for our brains. Slowly and subtly, it is shaping how we think, react, judge, and even feel.

“Without noticing it, our minds have grown accustomed to borrowed realities.”

The uncomfortable truth is this:

What we see on screens is not necessarily the truth. Yet we choose to believe it — not because it is right, but because it is familiar.

Over time, our minds lose the ability to build narratives based on understanding and lived experience. Instead, we assume. We absorb. We accept. Repetition begins to feel like reality.

“Somewhere between scrolling and streaming, we forgot how to simply observe life.”

A wise man once said, “I was born intelligent. Education ruined me.”

While this may have been said in the context of formal schooling, I believe modern media is doing something far more dangerous — it is quietly dulling independent thinking by constantly telling us what to think, what to fear, and what to desire.

“Not everything that appears on a screen deserves a place in our mind.”

Don’t judge life based on what you’ve seen on media.

Don’t let headlines replace human connection.

Don’t let algorithms define your worldview.

Trust your instincts.

Back yourself.

Trust in humanity.

Build a habit of seeing the good in people and situations. Distance yourself from negativity the moment you realise it’s affecting your peace — gently, without guilt.

“The world outside is still real, still breathing — we just spend less time with it.”

Spend less time on television — yes, all screens included.

Spend more time exploring yourself.

Pick up a hobby.

Read books.

Travel — not for pictures, but for perspective.

Soak yourself in the sea, Immerse yourself in the quiet strength of mountains, Blend in with people where innocence still exists & where conversations are not curated, smiles are not filtered.

Enjoy your own story instead of being a spectator in someone else’s highlight.

Be happy, No BP. 😄

— Shock | #ShockPerspective