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“There seemed to be something tragic in a friendship so coloured by romance.”
-Oscar Wilde
“as the garden grows, so shall the gardener.”
— engraved with the words, a weathered stone half-buried in a garden bed of bark chips and fallen twigs
I often wonder if God gets tired of being searched for only in temples.
Maybe He waits for us in the conversations we avoid having with our parents.
Maybe He waits in the apologies we never give.
Maybe He waits in the kindness we postpone because we are too busy proving we are right.
Maybe He waits in the lonely friend whose message we keep forgetting to reply to.
We spend so much time trying to reach God.
We wake up early to pray.
We keep fasts.
We memorize verses.
We light lamps.
We follow rituals with devotion.
And none of that is wrong.
But sometimes I wonder if God looks beyond all of it and asks a much simpler question:
"How did you treat the people I sent into your life?"
Not how many prayers you recited.
Not how many hours you spent in worship.
Not how perfectly you performed every ritual.
But whether your presence made someone's burden lighter.
Whether your words healed more than they hurt.
Whether the people who loved you felt loved in return.
Whether your faith made you kinder.
Because what if the holiest thing about a person is not how often they speak to God, but how they speak to His creation?
What if every act of patience is a prayer?
What if every act of compassion is an offering?
What if every time we choose love over ego, God feels closer than He ever did inside a shrine?
Maybe the point was never to find God.
Maybe the point was to become a little more like the goodness we keep attributing to Him.
And maybe that's why some people feel divine long before they ever feel religious.
Perhaps the closest thing to God is not a prayer, but a gentle heart ❤️
“Love isn’t only love, sweetheart. It’s hard work, and trust, and tears, with even a few glimpses of devastation. But at the end of each day, if you can still look at the person at your side and can’t imagine anyone else you’d rather have there, the pain, the heartache and the ups and downs of love are worth it.”
— Nicole Williams
“Always treat people with love and respect, because one day, when you’re old - your looks will fade and all you will have is your pure soul.”
— Unknown
गाजर के हलवे-सी होती है मोहब्बत,
आहिस्ता आँच माँगती है।
जल्दी की जाए तो ज़ायक़ा बिखर जाता है,
सब्र रखा जाए तो मिठास ख़ुद बोल उठती है।
गाजर कद्दूकस होती है,
मगर कुछ टूटता नहीं—
बस दिल और ज़्यादा नर्म हो जाता है।
चमचा चलता रहता है,
जैसे ख़याल चलते रहते हैं,
उसी एक नाम के गिर्द।
जो किसी के लिए
वक़्त निकाल कर हलवा बनाता है,
वो दरअसल
अपना दिल उसी के हवाले कर देता है।
गाजर का हलवा
महज़ मिठाई नहीं,
ये वो मोहब्बत है
जो ठहर कर पकती है।
Gajar Halwa is a Love Language
Gajar Halwa is never made in a hurry.
It asks you to slow down.
You grate carrots one by one,
your hands turning orange,
your thoughts wandering towards the person you’re making it for.
You stir.
You wait.
You stir again.
Milk thickens slowly,
just like feelings do.
Nothing about Gajar Halwa is instant.
And that’s the point.
When someone makes Gajar Halwa for you,
they’re gifting you their time.
Their patience.
Their willingness to stand near a stove
to say, “I’ll stay. I’ll wait. I’ll do this properly.”
and choose you over rest.
It’s made for family on winter evenings,
for friends you want to comfort,
for someone you love enough
Because if you’re ready to grate, cook, wait, and stir —
you’re ready to love.
Gajar Halwa isn’t just a dessert.
It’s devotion in a kadhai.
It’s warmth served in a bowl.
It’s love, made slowly, the old-fashioned way.
I have a stupid heart which looks for other stupid hearts. Is that really so bad?
“When you are washing the dishes, washing the dishes must be the most important thing in your life. Just as when you are drinking tea, drinking tea must be the most important thing in your life. Drink your tea slowly and reverently, as if it is the axis on which the whole world revolves—slowly, evenly, without rushing toward the future. Live the actual moment. Only this actual moment is life.”
— Thich Nhat Hanh
"It's March. I open the window and spring floats in, kisses me on the nose. I have waited so long — and now the Sun is washing the world in yellow, and now the seeds sprout green in the dirt, and now the trees are budding and ready to bloom — and it was all so worth it."
– Schuyler Peck, Worth the Wait
musings on flowers
Adonis, Early Autochrome Photography: Beautiful Color Photos of Natural Flowers From Between the 1900s and 1920s, Mary Oliver, Mia Dong, Andy Warhol, Nayyirah Waheed, Le quattro strade (Alice Rohrwacher, 2021) @365filmsbyauroranocte, @partizany, Claude Monet, The Novelist’s Film (Hong Sang-soo, 2022) @365filmsbyauroranocte, Thich Nhat Hanh
buy me a coffee
When C.S. Lewis wrote “but some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.”
The sun has nothing to do with the start of the morning, morning begins as soon as the mothers wake up
"... the sunset, like survival, exists only the verge of its own disappearing."
- Ocean Vuong
“Golden brilliance splitting through the clouds like the crown of a princess on her coronation day.”
― Gina Marinello-Sweeney
Pataskala, Ohio. January 28 2023.
March 7, 1931 The early diary of Anaïs Nin, 1903-1977