Hi, I’m Baadhira. I’ve always felt that everyone carries a quiet private world inside them. A place filled with thoughts, question and feelings that don’t always fit into our daily roles. This blog is my small way of visiting that inner world. I write from observation, experience and moments of quiet reflection. Nothing loud and nothing forced. Just honest thoughts as I try to understand life a little better. If you believe some thoughts deserve time, silence and honesty, you might feel at home here.
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Unlearn and Relearn
There are moments in life when we look back and realize that a different choice, a single action taken at the right time could have changed everything. We all carry those quiet “what ifs” within us about the decisions we hesitated on, opportunities we let pass and words we never said. In those moments we often wish we had been braver, more decisive or simply more aware. Maybe we would have spoken up, taken that risk or trusted ourselves a little more. It’s easy in hindsight to see the path we didn’t take and imagine how much better things could have been.
But the truth is, every decision we made was shaped by who we were at that time. It’s actually our mindset, our fears and our understanding of the world. We acted with the awareness we had in that moment. And because of that we cannot truly blame ourselves for not choosing differently. What we can do however is learn. Regret can either weigh us down or guide us forward. When we choose to learn from it, those missed actions become lessons. They remind us to be more present, more courageous and more intentional in the future. If we were given another chance we would act sooner. We would trust our instincts more. We would not let fear or doubt hold us back from what we know deep down is right for us. We cannot rewrite the past but we can decide how we show up next time. And perhaps that is where real change begins. It’s not in going back but in moving forward with greater awareness so that when the next moment arrives we don’t hesitate.
Its always been You v/s You
The last thing I learned is that most battles in life are actually between me and myself. Recently I heard a quote that stayed with me:
“Without your permission, no one can truly hurt you.”
For a long time I thought people, situations or circumstances were the things that hurt me the most. But slowly I started realizing that the real struggle happens inside our own mind. It is the fight between our thoughts, our expectations and the way we choose to see things.I learned that without my permission no one can truly hurt me. People may say things or behave in certain ways but whether it becomes pain or just another moment in life depends on how I take it. We often say that expectations hurt. But if I think about it honestly, expectations are something I create myself. When reality does not match what I imagined that gap becomes disappointment. So the real battle is learning how to manage my own mind, what to take personally, what to ignore, what to hold on to and what to let go. I also realized that success is not just luck or opportunity. Success is also the result of many silent battles inside ourselves. Choosing discipline over laziness, choosing patience over anger and choosing growth even when things feel difficult. So in the end, many things in life come down to one simple battle: you vs you. And winning that battle again and again is what slowly shapes who we become. And that might be the most important thing I have learned recently.
To the Woman I Became
Dear 100 year old me,
I have no idea where you are now or what your life looks like. I don’t know what kind of days you wake up to or what memories fill your mind. But I truly hope you are happy. More than that, I hope your mind is finally peaceful. I hope you remember the younger version of yourself, the one who was a little too innocent for this world and the one who felt things deeply and carried more emotions than she knew what to do with. I hope that girl didn’t disappear. I hope she slowly learned how to live in this world without losing her softness.
Right now I am trying my best. Some days it feels like I am strong and some days it feels like I am just trying to survive my own thoughts. I hope the strength I am building today became the foundation for the life you are living now. I hope the dreams that once lived quietly in your heart didn’t fade away. I hope they found their way into reality one by one even if it took years. But more than achievements, success or recognition, I hope you found peace. A kind of peace that younger you was always searching for. And I hope you found happiness in the small things, in ordinary days and in simply being alive. If you did, then everything I am going through right now was worth it.
With love,
Your younger self
Is It Hard Work or Destiny?
It is a question I often ask myself especially during moments when life does not go according to plan. I genuinely believe that most of our achievements are built on hard work, struggle and personal decisions. Nothing meaningful comes easily. The late nights, the silent battles, the discipline and the consistency all of these shape who we become. I strongly believe in effort. I believe in showing up. I believe in giving one hundred percent. But at the same time I cannot completely deny the idea of fate.
There are moments in life when despite giving everything, despite working hard, planning carefully and doing all the right things something still does not work out. Opportunities slip away. Delays happen. Unexpected obstacles appear. In those moments I sometimes wonder if it was simply not meant for me or if it was just not my time yet. Maybe destiny is only delayed. Sometimes it feels like no matter how much we try to control outcomes certain things unfold in their own timing. Maybe fate is not about denying us what we want. Maybe it is about preparing us for it. I do not believe fate replaces hard work. I believe they exist together. Hard work is our responsibility. Destiny might be the timing.
Even if everything fails once twice or many times if we keep trying keep improving and keep believing something eventually shifts. Maybe destiny rewards persistence. Maybe fate respects effort. So yes I believe deeply in hard work. But I also believe that there is something greater some unseen force that plays its role in our journey.Maybe the real balance in life is that work as if everything depends on you.Trust as if something greater is guiding you.
To that young girl
When I think about my teenage self, I see a girl who carried more pain than anyone noticed. I remember the bullying she endured, the silent tears she wiped away when no one was watching, the toxic people she encountered and the way she slowly pushed herself into a corner to feel safe. I remember the opportunities she let go of because fear spoke louder than confidence and the constant weight of judgment she carried on her shoulders. If I had the chance to sit beside her today, I would gently tell her that none of it defines her. The way people behaved was a reflection of their character and not her worth. There was never anything lacking in her. She was always enough just as she was. Most importantly, I would hold her hands and say that she will not always feel this small. The world will not always feel this heavy. One day she will look back and realize that the very things that tried to shrink her were the same things that shaped her strength. And she will be proud that she kept going even when she thought she could not.
The moments in-between
Significant life events and the passage of time have reshaped the way I look at life in ways I never expected. There were moments that shattered me like a glass vessel breaking into pieces and there were moments that made me stand tall holding my head high with pride. What I’ve come to understand though is that nothing stays forever, not the worst pain and not even the greatest success. There were times in my broken moments when the pain felt so unbearable that I wished it would all just end. And in my happiest moments I wished they could last a lifetime. But neither does. Between these highs and lows, there is a quiet space we all have to move through. A kind of emptiness or a waiting. And I think that space and that in-between is what we call life. It’s where we learn, endure and slowly discover what we are truly made of.
The Promise I Would Whisper to a Silent Heart
I don’t have a pet. Not because I don’t love the idea of one but because I believe that bringing a life into your world, the one that cannot speak, cannot leave and cannot explain its sadness or joy is not a casual decision. It is a promise. One that should be made after long nights of thinking, after writing down every pro and every con and after asking yourself whether you are ready to be someone’s entire world. Because to a pet you are not just a person. You are their morning, their safety, their comfort and their home.
So if one day I do choose to bring a pet into my life,it will mean that I have decided to carry a responsibility that goes beyond convenience and affection. It will mean I am ready to protect a heart that beats quietly beside mine, trusting me without words. And if I could make my pet understand one thing, it would be this: I would bring the world to you. Not because I have everything to offer but because I would give you everything I have. A world where you are not an afterthought. A world where your happiness is not optional. A world where your presence matters even on my busiest most tired days. Because that is how I treat the things I love. Not as something I own but as something I choose every day to care for, to protect and to hold gently in my life.
The Love I Can’t Go Back To
The first place my mind goes when I think of being loved is my grandparents. Not the loud kind of love nor the kind that announces itself or needs to be seen. But a quiet steady warmth that simply exists the way sunlight fills a room without asking permission. Their love had no conditions, no complaints nor measuring. Even when I made mistakes they never made me feel small for them. The way they corrected me was so soft and understanding that it made me want to become better, not out of fear but out of gratitude. I didn’t want to repeat the mistake not because I was scared but because I didn’t want to disappoint that kindness. With them I never felt judged, I felt held. There was something deeply comforting in knowing I could show up exactly as I was confused messy unsure and still be welcomed the same way. Their presence felt like a safe place in a world that often asks us to prove our worth before offering care. Now that they’re gone I understand how rare that kind of love really is.
Some losses don’t just take people away. They take a version of the world with them. A softer world and a slower one. A place where love didn’t need to be earned or explained. I know I will never find that same kind of love again. Some loves are not meant to be replaced. They exist once and when they leave, they take their entire world with them. There are days I crave it so deeply, it feels physical like a hunger I don’t know how to feed. Sometimes I catch myself wanting to run back to them forgetting for a brief foolish second that they are no longer there to run to. And yet in that absence nothing truly fills the space they left behind, not memory and not time. Not the way I try to be kind to others or gentle with myself. All of it feels like an imitation of something I once had and can never touch again. Some nights the world feels quieter than it should, like it’s waiting for a voice that will never answer. I still find myself wanting to run back to them even though I know there is nowhere left to go. Maybe that is how their love lives now. Not as something I carry forward but as something I keep losing over and over again.
When Memory Becomes the Only Home
The faces of those who have died people who were once so close to us and who will never return to this world fade in ways that feel unbearably cruel. There is nothing we can do to stop it. These were the people who filled our lives with warmth who made our childhoods magical whose presence felt irreplaceable. And yet over time their faces slowly blur in our memory no matter how tightly we cling to them. We try to remember every line every expression every laughter filled glance but memory is delicate and time is relentless.
We remember the moments we shared, the laughter, small gestures and the quiet words that made them part of our world. Every shared secret every comforting hug every story told on long afternoons rises in our minds like fragile sparks. These are the fragments that survive the glimpses of people who are gone but not entirely forgotten. Whenever we feel a longing a sudden ache for their presence those memories become our refuge and our quiet companion in solitude.
Sometimes we hold onto what they left behind clothes, letters, photographs, small objects that carry the weight of their existence. A sweater still smells faintly of them. A letter reveals a moment of thoughtfulness we can no longer witness. These objects become anchors in a life that feels unfettered without them. And yet even with these tokens we notice that memory does not stay fixed. Faces blur, Voices fade and the sharpness of who they were softens into something almost intangible.
The cruelest truth is that their faces their voices and the unique details of their being keep fading. No matter how much we revisit memories we cannot fully preserve them. Memory is a quiet thief. And yet even as their image blurs the warmth they gave the love they shared lingers quietly. It shapes us molds the spaces they once filled and remains in the smallest corners of our hearts. Sometimes it surprises us. The scent of a familiar place, a melody, a gesture that brings them briefly back into focus only for the moment to slip again.
Grief is a strange subtle companion. It is not only the pain of absence but the gradual erosion of memory. We mourn not just the loss of life but the slow disappearance of presence from our minds. And in this we encounter a paradox that the very act of loving someone means accepting that one day their face will fade, their voice will soften and their presence will become a whisper in our memory. Yet perhaps there is comfort in this fragility. To love those who are gone is to carry forward the warmth they gave us to let it inform how we treat the living how we move through the world and how we remember without clinging too tightly. Their absence teaches us the value of presence, the weight of small gestures and the extraordinary in everyday moments.
In the end while the faces of the dead fade their essence lingers. They exist in the laughter we share in the stories we tell and in the quiet lessons they taught us without knowing. Memory may blur but the impact of their life. However fleeting or fading in our minds remains. And perhaps this is the deepest truth of all that love does not end when life does. It continues quietly subtly shaping us guiding us and living on in ways that are invisible but profoundly real.
The Many Shapes of a Conversation
The way I communicate online is never fixed. It shifts with the state of my heart and the quiet of my thoughts. Communication for me is not just about words. It is about need. Sometimes I crave a voice that listens. In those moments I call someone not to speak much but to be heard. Silence on the other end can feel as comforting as a conversation. At other times interaction is all I want. A few exchanged thoughts, a shared laugh or a simple acknowledgment that someone else exists alongside me.
Then there are days shaped by busy lives. Conversations shrink into one or two sentences. We promise to “call later” fully aware that later may never come. Not because we do not care but because life keeps moving faster than our intentions. Messages become brief almost symbolic carrying meaning beyond their length. Online communication mirrors our inner state. Sometimes it is deep and searching. Sometimes it is rushed and incomplete. Sometimes it is honest and sometimes it is postponed. Yet in all its forms it reflects the same truth we are trying in our own imperfect ways to stay connected.
Journeys That Felt Like Home
When I think back on my most memorable road trip it is never about a specific destination. It is always about the journey I shared with my family. Ever since I was in school we made it a ritual to travel every year by car. Sometimes the trip took us to a completely different state and sometimes it was to quiet unexplored nature friendly places within our own state. The destination did not really matter. What mattered was the feeling of being together on the road.
My parents sat in the front seats steady and calm guiding us forward. My sister and I sat in the back and without any real discussion we chose our sides. I always sat on the right side by the window while my sister took the left side. What started as a random choice slowly turned into a tradition we still follow. That right side window seat meant everything to me. Watching the world change outside villages passing by greenery stretching endlessly and sunsets fading into night. Inside the car there was warmth safety and an unspoken assurance that everything was taken care of. I did not have to worry about directions plans or what came next. I could simply exist.
Those road trips gave me a feeling that is hard to describe and impossible to replace. A sense of protection belonging and quiet happiness. Even today when life feels rushed or uncertain I find myself longing for that same comfort. The hum of the engine my family close and a peaceful road unfolding ahead. Some journeys do not need photographs or milestones. They live on as feelings. And for me those family road trips will always be one of them.
From unhealthy to healthy munching
There was a time when hunger meant reaching for whatever was available. Fried snacks, oily bites, sweets and chocolates. Food was less a choice and more an impulse. I had a low appetite then and because I could not eat much. I never thought deeply about what I was eating. It felt like it did not really affect my body so I did not question it. Now my relationship with food has changed. I no longer look at a snack as something to silence hunger. I see balance and intention like Calories, protein, fiber and carbs. Each choice feels like a quiet conversation with my future self. When I see an oily snack today I do not crave it the way I once did. Instead I notice what is hidden inside it. The excess oil, the sugar and the temporary comfort it offers.
I have shifted slowly and consciously toward simpler and healthier options. A bowl of fruit. A spoon of peanut butter. Sometimes a sweet potato. Nothing fancy and nothing extreme, just food that feels honest. These choices are not about restriction. They are about respect. Respect for my body, my energy and the life I want to sustain. The changes have not been loud but they have been visible. My skin reflects it. My body responds to it. More than that my mindset does. What I snack on now feels less like indulgence and more like care. Maybe the snack I would eat right now is not just food. It is a reminder that even small choices repeated daily quietly shape who we become.
The One Thing That Stayed
When I think about attachments from my teenage years nothing really stands out as something I held onto for long. At different phases I found myself attached to different things sometimes people, sometimes food and sometimes fleeting hobbies. But none of them stayed consistent. They came and went just like the phases I was going through at the time. The one thing that truly remained was writing. A pen and a piece of paper became my quiet companions. Writing down my thoughts and organizing the chaos in my head slowly turned into a habit and eventually into therapy. Whenever I felt misunderstood, unheard or alone writing gave me a space where I didn’t have to explain myself to anyone.
Over time I outgrew many versions of myself but this habit stayed. What began as a coping mechanism became a form of self-connection. Even today when words fail me out loud I return to writing. That pen and paper may have changed but the comfort they bring hasn’t.
My Mission Is to Live Meaningfully
My mission in life has always been simple yet deeply personal that to live a meaningful life. I have never wanted to chase people, copy their lifestyles, or measure my worth by someone else’s definition of success. From a very young age I felt different in my thoughts, in the way I perceived life and in the questions I asked myself. That sense of being different never left me. There has always been an urge within me to break out of my comfort zone and do something bigger than what I am currently doing. It is not about ambition alone but about growth. It is about not settling just because something feels familiar or safe. I believe life is meant to be explored, challenged and expanded, not lived on autopilot.
There were times when I drifted away from my focus. Moments when distractions took over and clarity felt distant. Yet even during those phases a quiet voice remained in the corner of my heart. It reminded me that comfort is temporary and that staying too long in one place can slowly turn into regret.
Instead of complaining about where I am, I have always felt the urge to move forward. To leave what no longer serves me and search for something better, whether it is a place, a purpose or a version of myself I have not yet met. When I find myself doing something unproductive or meaningless a deep sense of regret follows. That regret is not punishment but a reminder that I am meant for more. My mission is not to be perfect or extraordinary in the eyes of the world. It is to remain honest with myself. To keep choosing growth over comfort, meaning over approval and purpose over routine. As long as that urge to evolve exists within me I know I am still on the right path.
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