Life in a slow lane

February 2026 (Final entry in the 2025 Reflections series)

If the first few months of the journey were about confronting the void and taking a friendly walk with pain, the months that followed were about what happens when the dust finally settles — momentarily. I found myself in a new place. It felt like I had been walking for a long time in mountains. The feeling was that of a lost person — a desperate feeling full of pain, tiredness and anxiety. The sittings made me realize my inner and outer struggles.

During this challenging time, I travelled to India for six weeks in February 2025. I am deeply connected with India. Even after spending more time outside India, I feel more connected and grounded here. The roots are too strong. The earth, the water, the air — even the polluted ones give me more energy. I am free with my own people, my own food, my own language.

The comfort in this chaos is eternal. It’s like penguins returning to shore and finding their loved ones in a large crowd.  Life is natural, easy and flowing. Life does flow differently, probably more naturally, in the place of our birth.

This time, India greeted me in a new way. It was telling me to explore. It looked like a vast open valley full of flowers. The emotions were overflowing — it was not happiness, not joy — just a deep, tranquil peace. It was the kind of peace that comes only after wandering through uncertainty and finding clarity at last. This was my new place.

I stood in this valley—an oasis of calm that welcomed me after my hard journey. This valley of peace was not just a physical location but a state of being, offering comfort and serenity after the turbulence of struggle and disorientation.

This was the start. The start of my second journey. The last one was fading, the new was emerging. I was ready. The first project of this new place was to set up our home in Hyderabad — an apartment in the heart of the city which we could call our home. India teaches patience and grit. This settlement was no different. It was birthing a new me.

The dust was clearing; the yellow leaves were making space for new ones. I was connecting to the place, the people and loved ones. Connecting differently than in the past. There was no rush, no timeline, no emails. I found myself in a space that hummed with a new kind of love and harmony. The pain, the awareness and this new place began to reshape my internal and external realities.

The brilliance of the new was welcoming but also confusing. Probably it is true that the hardest part of letting go isn’t the loss of the old one, but the brilliance of the new one.

I had fallen into a fertile land of self-discovery. A place full of noise and chaos, and unadulterated love. The root was happy to see the rain. I was slowly finding a few glimpses of who I am. It was a time of exploration. A time of celebration. I was doing this with my best friend, my spouse.

What else do you want from life. When we are running on the treadmill of life, we forget our roots. That is the only way we can make a new place, a new life, a new family. Youth inspire us to build wealth, family, friendships, and ultimately our identity.  But all these creations move us from our roots, the old place, the old people, the village and the family in which we were created. The old get forgotten for the new to emerge. This is the law of life.

The new flourishes, becomes a full-grown garden. Then this new becomes old. We can see this cycle with sadness or with joy. The truth lies somewhere in between.

The old do get an opportunity to make a new place again. A new place for rest, peace and joy. A place with awareness, pain and becoming. A balanced and slow journey full of observations and experiences.

The acceptance of this new place made me excited. There was so much potential to create something new — not driven by wealth, power and identity. A potential of pure bliss, a place to discover, a place to become who we are. And in this potentiality lies the accord and courage to draw a new picture.

I found myself full of excitement. I found the courage to say I am loving my retirement. I could say I am not on a break; I am not planning anything new. I am just enjoying my day. No plan, just existence. I cannot explain the joy of this state. Last week one of my friends asked, “are you not bored yet? I smiled and only said: “Not yet.”

Please note: This is the concluding installment of the 2025 Reflections series.