Penny's World

Tag: life

  • The Ghost of Christmas Past

    Remembering you comes in waves…and tonight I am drowning.

    Yesterday someone told me that we are not living in the past, we are learning and unlearning our lessons and that has to be one of the most relatable thing I have heard in a long time. Our past is what makes us- whether we accept it or not. The nature of your first friendship at school affects the way you interact with people your age upto a certain point. The place you grow up in, the school you go to, the people you surround yourself with- you pick up bits and pieces of everything as you go through life. I believe we are all like jigsaw puzzles- made of a million pieces, all in harmony- to create a unique blend of a person.

    But is it always in our best interest? What I mean to ask is- the habits, the memories, the nuances we carry within us- does it always help us build a better life or can it become an obstacle somewhere down the lane? I believe that it’s both. As we move forward, it becomes clear that not every part of our past is meant to accompany us. Some memories serve as gentle reminders of how far we’ve come, while others quietly weigh us down, making each step forward a little heavier than it needs to be. Habits born out of survival or heartbreak can, over time, harden into patterns that no longer protect us but instead confine us. And yet, even these burdens have shaped us in ways that are deeply human. They have taught us resilience, compassion, and patience—even if, at times, through pain.

    Life, it seems, is an endless dance between holding on and letting go. There’s a kind of art to knowing which parts of your story to weave into your present and which ones to leave respectfully in the past. It’s not about erasing anything, but about understanding that healing often means rewriting the narrative we once accepted as final. Growth asks us to be both tender with who we were and brave enough to imagine who we can still become.

    There are some loves you never truly outgrow. Once you have loved someone in your early years and gotten your heart broken, the remnants of that relationship don’t simply disappear—they settle quietly inside you, shaping the way you love forever. Even years later, if you notice a pattern in your new partner that even remotely resembles your past lover, something inside you stirs. Without meaning to, you go into self-destruct mode. You react instinctively, clinging to old fears rather than giving yourself the chance to realize that this time, it could be different. You make decisions rooted in memory, not the present moment.

    And that’s the heartbreak within heartbreak: once you have truly known someone and cared for them deeply, you are forever intertwined with them in ways you don’t always understand. Even when you no longer think about them consciously, one misstep, one misunderstanding, can catapult you right back to those long-forgotten days—back to the ache you thought you had outgrown.

    Is it fair to your new partner—to bear the weight of wounds they didn’t cause? Maybe not. Are we aware of this unfairness? Absolutely. But knowing doesn’t always make it easier. Sometimes, it’s not a choice at all. It’s a reflex, an invisible shield we raise before we can even name what we’re protecting ourselves from. And when the dust settles, when the anger and fear quiet down, we are left hoping—desperately—that this time, love will stay. That despite our attempts to push it away, someone will choose to understand us, to stand beside us through the ruins.

    Healing is messy. It’s not a straight line or a single, sweeping act of closure. It’s a tug-of-war between the person you were when you were hurt and the person you are trying so hard to become. Loving again after heartbreak demands more than courage—it demands radical self-awareness and a deep, patient kindness, both for yourself and for those who dare to love you despite the splinters. Every new relationship carries a quiet, trembling hope: that we are not too broken, that love can outlast the echoes of old pain.

    Maybe that’s what real love looks like—not perfect, not untouched by the past, but resilient enough to build something beautiful in spite of it. Maybe real love is choosing, every day, to believe in the possibility of healing. Maybe that’s how we finally set ourselves free—not by forgetting where we’ve been, but by daring to hope for where we can still go and maybe, just maybe, finally relate to these words:

    And by mornin’

    Gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean.

    Let me know your thoughts

    • I Don’t Want To Be Like My Mother

      Yes, you read that right. Now that I have grown up, I no longer want to be like my mother- but why? What happened? What changed?

      I remember when I was growing up- all I ever wanted to do was exactly what my mother was doing. I wanted to wear a saree (an Indian piece of clothing) if she was wearing that. I would pretend to wear vermillion (or sindur, if you know) with talcum powder because I saw my mother do it. I would carry around a shoulder bag in my grandparents’ house because she was doing it. Again, I wanted to become my mother growing up. So, what about now? And when I say I don’t want to become like her- am I talking about things I just mentioned? Or am I now focussing on things that actually matter? I believe the women out there reading this blog right now knows exactly what I am talking about.

      As you grow up, you slowly get acquainted with the various nuances of life and start seeing the world in shades of grey. The simplicity of childhood is long gone and with that the ability to see the world in black and white- and then it dawns upon you. Becoming your mother doesn’t only mean wearing that pretty saree, carrying that shoulder bag around and wearing the vermillion in the parting of your hair- it has deeper implications. It was at this juncture of my life that my viewpoint changed- my viewpoint about my mother. Yes, I still wanted to be her but I understood that becoming exactly like my mother would mean doing all of those things I just mentioned a couple lines ago despite the emotional situation she was in. It would mean carrying that shoulder bag in addition to the emotional baggage of the family she was already carrying. Becoming her would mean showing up at the “party” in that beautiful saree even when everything around her crumbling down. I realised becoming my mother would mean becoming the epitome of strength in the face of apocalypse and sacrifice my wishes, my dreams and just become a shadow for the family I get married into. When I realised this- one question kept me up at night- am I ready to make this sacrifice? Am I ready to let my own self go for someone else? And to my surprise the answer kept coming back as “no”.

      This blog might be longer than usual- if I can find the right words- so I hope you stay with me. I have grown up in a small flat in Kolkata surrounded forever by family. My childhood memories are good with a few hiccups here and there. My mother made a home out of what was barely even a house and I had the time of my life there. But now that I have grown up- I see what I overlooked back then. Now that I have grown up, I see the cracks my mother so expertly concealed with her smile. I see the unpaid emotional labour she carried on her back like an invisible shawl—quietly absorbing tension, diffusing conflicts, and always putting herself last. I see the silences between conversations, the tiredness behind her eyes, the sacrifices she never announced because that’s just what women were expected to do. I now recognise the courage it took to stay, to hold the family together, to be the anchor no matter how turbulent the storm. And while I admire her immensely for all of it, I no longer aspire to wear those burdens as my own badges of honour.

      It’s not rebellion. It’s not ingratitude. It’s simply a different kind of awareness—a choice. I want to live a life where strength doesn’t always mean silent endurance. Where love doesn’t equate to self-erasure. Where being a woman doesn’t mean becoming invisible in the service of everyone else’s needs. I want to create my own definitions of femininity, resilience, and family. And that might mean breaking a few inherited patterns, challenging expectations, and choosing paths my mother never had the luxury to explore. But maybe, just maybe, in doing so—I’m still honouring her, not by becoming her, but by allowing her sacrifices to give birth to a life where I don’t have to make the same ones.

      I often wonder if my mother ever had the time to sit and think about what she wanted from life. Not as a daughter, not as a wife, not as a mother—but just as herself. Did she ever dream of writing a book, traveling alone, or starting something of her own? Or were those dreams slowly buried under responsibilities, expectations, and years of putting others first? The older I get, the more I realise how rare it is for women like her to have the space to even ask themselves those questions. And it makes me sad. Not just for her, but for the generations of women before her who never even knew they had a choice.

      That’s what makes the “no” in my answer feel heavy. It’s not just a rejection of a lifestyle—it’s a conscious, maybe even selfish-sounding, act of reclamation. I want to honour my mother by choosing differently. I want to prioritise my emotional wellbeing, protect my aspirations, and build a life that makes space for both love and independence. I want to be present for the people I love without losing myself in the process. I want to show up in the world as a whole person, not someone who constantly has to split herself into pieces just to keep everything afloat.

      Still, I’ve come to understand that choosing a different path doesn’t mean turning my back on her—it means carrying her strength forward, just in a new form. My refusal to become a silent pillar doesn’t erase her legacy; it redefines it. I am not walking away from her story—I’m building upon it, brick by brick, adding chapters she didn’t get to write. And maybe one day, if I have a daughter, she’ll look at me with the same awe I once had for my mother. But she’ll also know that she can choose to admire me without needing to become me. Because that, too, is love. And that, too, is freedom.

      This one’s for you mom and all the beautiful mothers out there! And these are few snippets from life ❤️

      Let me know your thoughts

    • The Mirror Principle: Reflecting Relationships

      A week or two ago I was talking to someone over Instagram and said something very mature which I later wrote on my Journal app and posted as a status on WhatsApp. Now before I dive into this blogpost- anyone remembers the Justin Timberlake song “Mirrors”? If you don’t, the following lyrics forms the centre point for this blog-

      ‘It’s like you’re my mirror

      My mirror staring back at me…’

      Okay enough of an introduction- let’s dive right in. During the aforementioned Instagram chat we were joking about human behaviour in correlation with one another. For example, you would not talk to your best friend the way you talk to your boss at the office. During such banter, my friend asked me to describe my own behaviour in as few words as possible- and in that very moment I came up with the perfect metaphor to give an answer to this question. I said I consider myself to be a mirror that does not distort the reality out of proportions. I am the mirror that reflects that reality with all its nuances. This is to say that I mimic the person in front or the person I’m having a conversation with. I give as much attention, respect, love, decency, importance etc as I have gotten from you.

      For years I have been the person who replied to texts within minutes or picked up a call on the first or third ring depending on my situation. It did not really matter if the person calling or texting was my best friend, partner, parents or an acquaintance – I was always available; till I wasn’t anymore. This change in behaviour showed me something very important- some times you have got to give back what you get- for your own sanity. Such a shift in my nature gave me clarity too- clarity about the people I want to keep in my circle. If you have been reading my blogs- you know the 50-30-20 principle I use for my emotional budgeting. While that is an effective tool to make sure that you are not bending yourself backward to help someone out- the same principle clubbed with my mirror analogy ensures an added filter. What exactly does it do? Let me give you an example with which most of us, if not all, would relate. You meet someone by happenstance maybe through a mutual friend, or at a club, or via an app or any other ways that are norms of the day. You talk to each other and there is an instant spark and you start talking to each other for longer hours characterised by prompt replies, words of affirmation or validation- maybe a little too much of that. You start feeling like having your dream-come-true moment. And then comes the period where the replies grow inconsistent. You start thinking what went wrong, if you should hav given them a chase rather than becoming all gooey and you start going down the spiral. You become restless and reply to a text received after 3 hours within 3 seconds and the whole cycle of waiting and wondering begins again. Sounds familiar? Well we have all been victims of this and more often than not we have blamed it on the heart- when all it’s doing is pumping blood!

      Now how does my mirror principle help here? The mirror principle states that I would be a reflection of how you treat me. For example, if you are a genuinely good texter- so am I, of course not at the cost of the work I have got to do. If you talk to me respectfully, I give it right back. If you pretend like you have to wait for your pigeon to send me back a reply by writing a letter without any valid reason- that’s exactly what you are going to get back. The fun thing about the mirror principle is that as long as you are giving back respect, validation, time – anything that is, in general, positive- no one would have any issues with you mimicing them. The problem starts when you start acting aloof with someone who has treated you like you don’t matter.

      It has taken me years to perfect this practice at the cost of losing out on connections, but you have got to prioritise your own sanity over connections who have a pattern of resurfacing when they need something from you. Know your worth! That’s it. This has been one of the most important lessons that has bamboozled people across generations. Some people understand it early on in life – our alpha males or alpha females with a mesmerizing personality. While some of us struggle understanding our worth in someone’s life, including me. So mirroring their actions after giving them a couple chances has helped me remain approachable but not at the cost of my self respect.

      So, what’s the takeaway from all of this? Simple—match energies, but don’t drain yourself trying to keep a connection alive when the effort isn’t mutual. The mirror principle isn’t about playing games; it’s about valuing yourself enough to give back only what you receive. And if someone finds it unfair, well, maybe they should take a good look at how they’ve been treating you. After all, a mirror never lies—it only reflects.

      At the end of the day, your time, attention, and emotions are valuable. If someone treats you with care, kindness, and consistency, you reciprocate. But if they make you feel like an afterthought, then why should you do any different? The beauty of the mirror principle is that it puts the power back in your hands—you’re no longer waiting, guessing, or overextending yourself. You simply reflect. And in doing so, you protect your peace, your dignity, and your worth.

    • Uncertainty in Life: Embracing Change and Growth

      I sit by my window clueless- with a vacant stare in my eyes. The rain is pouring down right now – the usual British weather, but the melancholy in my mind makes it gloomier than it is. I have only one question in my mind today – “What’s next?” The sense of uncertainty engulfs me and I go down that spiral of emotions. I cry. It’s a little tear that rolls down my left cheek at first and then the right. I am crying profusely now and I don’t know how to stop these emotions. Amidst all of this, my mind takes me back to the first time I realised I wanted to study abroad.

      It was back in May 2020. The world was grappling with the shock of the havoc caused by Corona virus. The chatter of the constant news updates and ambulance sirens became rampant everywhere. During this time, I graduated online from college upon finishing my Bachelor’s degree and was planning on what to do next. Following a couple months of break- I rejoined St. Xavier’s College, Kolkata for their MA in Political Science program. Although the familiarity of the class structures, professors and classmates was extremely comforting during a time when we were in survival mode, my heart yearned for something more and I had no clue about what it was.

      Following graduation a lot changed. In August 2020, I published my first book. Few of my friends moved to different cities and few of them moved back to their hometowns and went on with their lives; while I sat on my bed in soft yellow lighting at midnight, struggling to understand what it is that I want.

      Soon I got fascinated by the idea of studying abroad, something I never planned on doing for my Masters degree. As some of you know, this fascination began a journey that would continue for months and would involve endless hours of research and writing SOPs for my target universities. I started researching about what it is that I wanted to do, where do I want to go and gradually the answer to the question “What next?” became clearer with every passing day. In September 2021, I embarked on my first international travel to pursue my Masters of Arts in Conflict, Security and Development in the UK. By the time I started my course, I had it all figured out:

      • Graduation in 2022
      • Job by 2023
      • First home by 2027
      • A pet on my 30th birthday…..and so on and so forth.

      You get the idea!

      But like I said in my last blog, life seldom follows a definite plan and maybe that’s what makes life so much more interesting and stressful at times. Imagine how mundane your life would be had you known- at exactly which point in your life are you gonna meet your soulmate, or by what age you’re gonna get your first job, or get into your dream school, or meet your role model- everything would have been charted out for you. Although sometimes being in the unknown scares the bejesus out of me- the thought of having my life planned out for me scares me more.

      I wouldn’t lie- I did manage to meet a few goals on this plan of mine- I did graduate from University of Sussex in 2022 and secured a job in 2022 itself- lucky me, right? I thought so too. But as life would have it, I started feeling like I should be aiming higher. I should challenge myself to attain greater heights and soon my plans changed again. Although the essence remained the same- my priorities shifted a bit. So now I am faced by that question again- the same sense of uncertainty I felt in 2020 is back. But this time the feeling is familiar. This time I am more prepared for change. I am older and wiser. But does that mean I am not scared of the uncertainty anymore? I am. I wake up at night with my heart beat racing and with small beads of sweat on my forehead bothered by the possibilities my future holds. However, now it’s a fleeting moment of self doubt which is followed by long periods of striving for what it is that I want and tackling life one day at a time.

      So while I sit on my bed and look out the window and witness the lives of people around me, I reiterate one thing over and over again:

      “There’s always gonna be another mountain
      I’m always gonna wanna make it move
      Always gonna be an uphill battle
      Sometimes I’m gonna have to lose
      Ain’t about how fast I get there
      Ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side
      It’s the climb”

      ~Miley Cyrus “The Climb”

    • UK (Penny’s version)

      Brighton, 12/10/2021
      Welcome to Midnight Musings, Chapter 2: UK (Penny’s version).

      My UK journey has been a myriad of emotions to say the least. From the highest highs to the lowest lows, this has been an adventure and sparring a few details I wouldn’t have it any other way.
       
      I came to the UK as a Masters degree student eager to explore the world, soak in the culture, learn from the best in their field but most of all to become independent. And I got to tick all of these off my bucket list. But everything came at a price. The picture above was taken on my first birthday in the UK. Growing up in a very close knit family my birthdays used to be a huge thing with my mom cooking my favourite dishes to my dad getting my favourite birthday cake- my day used to be all about the hustle. However, my first birthday in the UK was not like that. 

      I remember starting the day at around 8 a.m. on a Tuesday morning of October to get my breakfast sorted followed by a 3 hour long class and a meeting with colleagues to discuss a topic decided by our professor for next week’s class. It was rough. I couldn’t concentrate throughout my class and felt homesick a lot. The time difference meant I wasn’t able to call my parents immediately so I confided about it in my flatmate who then took me out on a lunch date. Standing in the corner of a random street of Brighton, I felt the price I paid for my years of independence. 

      Being an international student or even simply being an expat is hard and growing up watching movies that show you a distorted reality doesn’t make it easier. It unfolds a journey of learning and unlearning: I have had to forego habits that were dear to me and develop new ones. I have rediscovered myself or facets of my personality time and again. I have fought my own demons and come out of my comfort zone to adapt to the norms of the country: and in retrospect I have loved every bit of it.

      My life became an embodiment of the phrase "change is the only constant".  I studied Political Science all my adult life and went on to work in finance and fell in love with it. I saw my life change drastically- from food habits to my Netflix watchlist. My icebreaker questions went from “How are you doing?” to “Bit chilly, innit?” overtime. I have had to learn to call my professors, my managers by their first names and be comfortable with it. Most of all, I have learnt about myself and have learnt to accept defeat.

      If I have to put three years of my life in one blog; more so in one paragraph this is what I would have to say: UK has been a rollercoaster ride with the best bunch of people. However, despite common misconceptions, your quality of life doesn’t immediately get better when you shift abroad. In my experience, it gets hard before it gets better. 

      ·To be hungry for one whole day because your part-time job’s shift sneaked up on you during your assignments and you lost track of time and forgot to cook anything: it teaches you what life is. 

      ·To have crippling self-doubt but still show up looking your best teaches you adaptability. 

      ·Doing 18 hours work days including assignments, part-time job and your daily chores just in time to get enough sleep for months at end- teaches you to be resilient in a way nothing else can. 

      All of this has made me want to give up many a times and go back but every time I kept asking myself: didn’t you always want this? Didn’t you always want to be independent? Didn’t you dream day in and day out of living abroad? And when the answer kept coming back as yes- it gave me strength to look life in the eye and say ‘bring it on!’.  

      I found facets of me that would have stayed hidden had I not moved miles away from home. I found people who made me push my boundaries and become a better version of me. I found home in myself: became happy in my own skin; my own space. The other part of it has been a dream come true ✨; but more about that in the next one!

      Leaving a few snippets of the other half on here. I hope you enjoy. For now I leave you with one thing- believe in miracles, they happen ❤
      King’s Cross Station, October 2021
      University of Sussex, September 2021

      London, March 2022 ♥️