My Musings – Page 18 – Not your ordinary tales

When the Bucket List Wasn’t a Place, but a Feeling

I thought I wanted the Valley of Flowers. What I really wanted was to sit on a damp rock outside a crumbling homestay, a dog curled beside me, clouds playing hide and seek with the mountains—and Hari walking up, placing his arm gently on my shoulder, settling next to me like it was the most obvious thing to do. That moment, more than any meadow or misty summit, is what stayed with me. That was the real bucket list—quiet, unexpected, and wildly alive. I first read about the Valley of Flowers while drenched to the bone on the Bhrigu Lake …

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How Himalayan treks kicked my control freak’s ASS

I’ll confess — I’m a control freak, perfectionist, recovering people pleaser. I’m often up late at night reassessing and tweaking my ten-year plan. I love to plan but I don’t just formulate plan A and B but rather till plan F covering all edge case scenarios. And I act like a mad kitten when I don't know what's next. It's not because I'm scared of pain or failure - if anything I have very high tolerance for those. But I've a massive fear of unknown and not having control. During COVID, when my anxiety was at an all time high, I made a …

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When the Mountain Let Me Pass

There’s a moment I return to often—not because it was dramatic, but because it stripped me of every idea I had about strength. The Bhrigu Lake trek wasn’t supposed to be hard. The trail notes called it “moderate.” No death-defying ledges. No ice patches. Just a soft, promising trail through pine forests and wide-open meadows. I packed light—on gear and on expectations. But altitude doesn’t care what you pack. Somewhere after the first climb, my breath tightened. Not tired-tight. Something-is-off tight. My legs dragged. My thoughts …

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Sorry, for What?

In a grocery store checkout line, I apologized to a woman who hadn’t even acknowledged me. It's not like I was blocking her or standing in her way. She hadn’t asked me to move, and no interaction had happened between us. I was simply standing there with my basket, waiting, and my automatic response was still, “Sorry.” I thought about it afterward because the absurdity of it kept bothering me. What exactly was I apologizing for? Taking up a few inches of supermarket floor? The apology had nothing to do with manners. It's from a conditioning I …

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Nobody Teaches You How to Come Back

Growth is an oddly quiet affair.Not silent like a mountain top or a spa commercial.Quiet like a room after someone has left. You think you’ll feel lighter, but what shows up first is the echo—of old roles,of things unsaid,of laughter that now sounds rehearsed in your memory. The real shift isn’t when you start saying no.It’s when you stop over-explaining the yes. Suddenly, people don’t know where to place you.You’re no longer the cushion they leaned on or the backstage manager who kept everyone else's chaos in check. You’re not …

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Reclaiming Self: The Quiet Revolution

The first time I stood in my kitchen and didn’t rush to answer a text, something shifted. The stove was on. My tea was boiling. My name wasn’t being called, and no crisis had arrived. But my phone buzzed, and I didn’t flinch. Not because I was being strong or strategic. I was just... tired. The kind of tired that doesn’t come from lack of sleep, but from always being reachable, always available, always rearranging life like a Rubik’s Cube that only ever made other people happy. That morning, I watched the steam rise from the pan like a …

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