What’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done when no one was watching?
We often call something courageous when we have done something extraordinary, or when we have put everything we have into doing something difficult. Perhaps that is courage too.
But sometimes, there are things we do without telling anyone. Sometimes, we cannot even explain them to anyone. Yet making those choices can require just as much courage.
Sometimes, making a decision can be so difficult that we have to gather an incredible amount of strength within ourselves. And we may not even be able to tell anyone how much courage it actually took to make that decision.
People may call our decisions wrong. We may have to listen to their judgments. But the person standing in front of us does not know what we went through before arriving at that decision.
People often see the decision.
They rarely see the story behind it.
I am going through something like this in my own life right now.
Recently, I have made a few decisions about my life. But I still don’t know how right they will prove to be. There is still a fear somewhere inside me—Will these decisions really be right for my life?
For the past several years, I had been preparing for the career I wanted. I wanted to achieve something I had dreamed of becoming. But I could not achieve it.
Perhaps, in some ways, I could have worked harder. And perhaps my responsibilities also played a part, because I could not give my preparation as much time as I wanted to.
But some recent circumstances made me rethink my career.
I thought about changing my path, and I made a few decisions. To be honest, I was afraid while making them. I am still afraid.
But somewhere inside, I felt that I had to do it.
I had to change my path.
Because I no longer have the same time or the same circumstances to simply keep waiting.
And perhaps that was when I truly understood something:
Sometimes, there are decisions in life that require courage simply to make them.
A kind of courage that we cannot show anyone.
We don’t always know whether our decision is right or wrong. We don’t know what lies ahead. Yet, we still have to choose a path.
Perhaps that is what inner courage is.
Courage is not always something visible from the outside. Sometimes, it exists so deeply within us that we cannot show it to anyone.
No one can see how many times we may have broken inside before making a decision, how many times we may have been afraid, or how many times we may have asked ourselves—
“Am I doing the right thing?”
And yet, somewhere within us, there is a small hope that perhaps, one day, this decision will prove to be right for us.
Maybe that hope is the voice of courage.
And it is not only me.
I wonder how many people are going through a similar phase in their lives right now.
Someone may be making a difficult decision about their dream. Someone may be making one for their family. Someone may be choosing a different future. And perhaps someone may even have to make difficult decisions for love—decisions that leave them feeling broken, yet they still gather the courage to move forward.
Perhaps everyone feels afraid.
But some decisions have to be made even when we are afraid.
And maybe that is the kind of courage we cannot show anyone, even if we want to.
Yet, whenever another difficult question, decision, or turning point comes into our lives, we remember that moment when we were afraid but still found the courage to choose.
Perhaps then we realize:
Courage does not always mean being fearless.
Sometimes, courage means being afraid and still standing by your decision.
And perhaps some of the bravest decisions we ever make are the ones we make when no one is beside us—
just us, our fear, and the little bit of hope that remains within us.
What’s something you do completely differently from how you were raised?
I think everyone would have a different answer to this question, depending on their own experiences and the way they were raised.
The things we are taught as children, and the way we are brought up, stay with us as we grow. But somewhere along the way, when we begin to understand things a little better, we also start changing something within ourselves.
When we were children, we would wear whatever clothes were given to us. We rarely questioned why we had to wear those particular clothes. But as we grew older and started understanding ourselves, we began choosing what we wanted to wear and how we wanted to present ourselves.
I think life is somewhat similar.
It would be wrong to say that we never change and that we continue living exactly the way we were raised. Some people change their sense of fashion, some change their habits. Some learn to be quieter, while others learn to question.
When I look at my own life, I think I have changed quite a lot.
I had a good upbringing. I am not saying that I was raised badly. But there were certain things and habits I was taught that I followed for many years without questioning them.
I was taught to remain quiet.
I was taught that the decisions about my life would not necessarily be mine to make. The elders would decide what was right for me, and I was expected to accept those decisions without questioning them.
And perhaps the biggest thing I learned was to always be available for others.
Because of this, I kept putting my own dreams somewhere in the background. A part of my childhood passed among responsibilities, and slowly I started believing that being there for other people was simply what I was supposed to do.
But over the past few years, I have started looking at my life more closely.
And I realized something that was not very easy to accept.
Sometimes, I felt as if my value had become like that of a doormat—fine when someone needed me, but barely noticed when they didn’t.
That was when I began to understand that always being available for others is not necessarily a sign of kindness. Sometimes, it can mean putting your own existence aside.
And that is where I began changing myself.
I learned to say no.
I stopped being available for everyone, all the time.
I learned to speak up for my dreams.
And most importantly, I learned to speak up for my self-respect.
For me, this change became necessary because if I had continued doing everything exactly the way I had been taught as a child, I might have slowly moved further away from myself.
I am not saying that everything we are taught during childhood is wrong. There are many beautiful things in our upbringing that we should carry with us throughout our lives.
But is everything necessarily right simply because we were taught it as children?
Perhaps not.
Some things feel right at that age because we are too young to understand them. We simply accept them.
But as we grow older and begin to understand our own lives, perhaps we should also have the freedom to change some of those things.
Especially when a habit starts becoming an obstacle to our dreams.
Or when it begins to affect our self-respect.
Or when it makes us feel that our own desires do not matter.
For me, changing some parts of what I had learned while growing up was not about rejecting my upbringing.
It was about recognizing the things within me that were no longer right for me.
Because if I was going to be considered wrong even while living with those habits, then perhaps there was no reason to keep holding on to them.
That is why I have learned to say no.
I no longer believe that being available for everyone, all the time, is proof that I am a good person.
I no longer think that speaking up for my dreams is selfish.
And I don’t think protecting my self-respect is something I should feel guilty about.
Perhaps growing up is not simply about getting older.
Perhaps it is also about looking back at the way we were raised and asking ourselves:
What do I want to carry with me, and what do I want to leave behind?
Because not everything we were taught as children has to remain unchanged throughout our lives.
Some things add value to our lives, and we should keep them.
But if something is holding us back from our dreams, silencing our voice, or making us feel less worthy, perhaps it is okay to change it.
I think that is what I have been doing.
Not changing who I was raised to be completely, but slowly deciding who I want to become.
And maybe that is the most personal answer I can give to this question.
What’s the kindest thing someone has ever done for you?
To me, kindness is not just a word, nor does it simply mean feeling sorry for someone. Kindness means something much deeper to me.
Sometimes, something a person says stays with us so deeply that we remember it even when we are going through the hardest times in our lives, when we are struggling to find a way out.
And sometimes, a person does not help us by speaking gently or lovingly. Sometimes, they help us by scolding us.
Once, I was travelling for an exam. A person got on the bus and started selling something. At the same time, the bus began to move, so he tried to get off quickly. The bus conductor started shouting at him.
Looking at the situation, all the passengers seemed to think that the conductor was angry because the person was making the bus stop again and again.
But after some time, the driver told us that the man had an injury on his leg. In his hurry, he had not paid attention to it, but the conductor knew about his injury. That was why he was angry. He wanted the bus to stop completely so that the man could get off safely.
That small incident made me think.
Maybe someone does not always have to speak to us lovingly to show that they care. Sometimes, even their scolding can be another form of kindness.
That incident also reminded me of my school days.
There was a time when one of my teachers started telling me to stay away from some of my friends. She probably felt that I was unable to maintain the necessary distance from some of my classmates. So, she started keeping me busy at school by giving me some extra work.
Not all of that work was related to my studies.
At that time, I used to think, “She has become so strict. Why does she always give me extra work?”
I could not understand her behaviour.
But after a few days, I came to know something about those same classmates that was not right.
That was when I finally understood why my teacher had been behaving that way.
At that time, her scolding and strictness did not feel like kindness to me. I thought she was being unnecessarily harsh. But later, I realized that there was concern for me behind that strictness.
Perhaps kindness does not always appear with a smile.
Sometimes, it comes in a strict voice.
Sometimes, it is hidden behind someone’s scolding.
And sometimes, it appears in a decision that we strongly dislike at the time.
I don’t think we always have to recognize kindness at the exact moment it happens.
Some forms of kindness take time to understand.
Sometimes, we understand years later that something someone did for us was actually done because they cared about us.
And there is another form of kindness—when someone’s words stay with us.
Sometimes, a simple sentence spoken by someone becomes so deeply rooted in our minds that it comes back to us during difficult times. When we cannot see a way out of a situation, something we heard years ago can suddenly give us the strength to keep moving forward.
Perhaps we never know exactly when we leave a little kindness behind in someone’s life.
And perhaps the other person never realizes how much one small thing they said or did meant to us.
For me, kindness is perhaps about making someone’s life a little better, a little safer, or a little stronger—even when they do not understand at that moment what we are trying to do for them.
Because kindness does not always need gentle words.
Sometimes love comes in the voice of a scolding.
Sometimes care hides behind strictness.
And sometimes a few words from someone stay with us for so long that they become the very thing that helps us through our difficult moments.
Maybe that is the most beautiful thing about kindness:
If the salary was the same, what job would you be doing right now and why?
A job—perhaps one of the most important things in the world today, something for which people are willing to go through all kinds of struggles.
To be honest, when a person does not have a job, their value in society can sometimes seem to diminish as well.
But if someone had asked me this question a few years ago, my answer would probably have been quite simple:
A job that pays more and gives me respect.
Where I come from, a government job carries a lot of importance. A person who has one is often considered intelligent, respectable, and well-established. It is also seen as one of the safest ways to live a stable and organized life.
But my answer has changed now.
It is not that I think having a job is pointless or that earning money is wrong. Not at all.
A job is important. Money is important. And taking care of our responsibilities is important too.
But now another question comes to my mind:
Are we really doing the work we want to do?
Perhaps not.
Most people are not doing what they truly want to do. They are doing something because they have responsibilities and need to keep their lives running without too much difficulty.
And there is nothing wrong with that. Every person has different circumstances and responsibilities.
But imagine if there came a time when people were seen equally, without considering their money, position, or social status.
Perhaps, for the first time, people would get the chance to think about themselves.
They might ask:
“Is this really what I want to do?”
Because there are so many people today who are not doing the work they actually want to do. They are doing something simply because they have to.
There are families to take care of, responsibilities to fulfill, expenses to manage, and a life to keep moving.
And perhaps that is why I have started feeling that having a purpose in life is more important than having a particular job.
Imagine someone who wants to save people’s lives. They become a doctor.
Perhaps they do not earn as much as they expected. Perhaps they have very little time for themselves. But if they can see their purpose in what they do, maybe they will still feel happy.
Because for them, it is not just a job.
They know why they are doing it.
On the other hand, when we do something without any sense of purpose, perhaps the same work slowly starts feeling like a burden.
We work. We earn money. We fulfill our responsibilities.
But somewhere inside, there may still be a feeling of emptiness.
That is why I am not saying that having a job or earning money is wrong.
I only mean that when we have a purpose in our lives, perhaps these things become a little easier.
We still get tired, but our tiredness has a meaning.
We still face difficult days, but we know why we are going through them.
And perhaps that is the difference between simply working and working for something that matters to us.
Sometimes, can’t we just think about ourselves?
Can we put aside, for a moment, what others have chosen for us, what society expects from us, which job is considered more respectable, and which career pays more—and simply ask ourselves:
What do I really want to do?
And perhaps that is why, when I think about myself, I cannot think of just one job.
There are many things I want to do.
I want to do things that can bring some kind of change to a person’s life or to society. I want some of my work to teach people something.
And I want to be around people because I also want to learn from them.
These things are not connected to just one community, one person, or one place.
Perhaps that is why I don’t have just one job in mind.
I have many things I want to do because these things make me happy.
I don’t get bored doing them.
I do get tired, of course, but the desire to continue does not disappear simply because I am tired.
If I teach a child, I don’t want to do it only so that the child can pass a class.
I want the child to actually learn something.
I want them to learn how to ask questions, how to think about themselves, and perhaps how to use what they learn in their own life.
If I ever get the opportunity to work with girls, I would not want to teach them only a skill. I would want them to become capable of thinking for themselves.
And if I ever get the chance to work with someone from whom I can learn something, I would not want to be there only as someone who teaches.
I would want to be a learner too.
Perhaps that is my purpose.
Not simply reaching a particular position, but wherever I am, learning something and adding something good to someone else’s life.
So, if someone asked me the same question again—
“If the salary were the same, what job would you choose?”
Perhaps I still would not be able to name just one job.
Because now I feel that choosing one particular job is not as important to me as knowing that whatever I do, I should be able to see my reason for doing it.
Perhaps that is why, for me, the question of life is not only:
“What do I want to become?”
Somewhere along the way, it has also become:
“How do I want to feel about what I do?”
Perhaps I want to be around people, learn from them, and, wherever possible, leave something behind in their lives that stays with them even after I am gone.
Maybe that is why I don’t have one final answer when it comes to a career.
And perhaps that is okay.
Maybe life does not always require us to choose only one path.
Maybe different kinds of work, at different stages of our lives, can give us the opportunity to do the things we genuinely want to do.
Perhaps I still don’t know exactly what job I want to do.
But I do know one thing: I don’t want to do work that makes me forget why I chose to do it in the first place.
What’s a book you never finished but still think about?
Some books we finish reading and then place back on our bookshelves. As time passes, we may even forget what was written inside them. But there are some books we never manage to finish, yet a few of their pages become a part of our lives.
For me, one such book is “The Power of the Subconscious Mind.”
It is the Hindi version of a book originally written in English. I started reading it some time ago. I intended to finish it, but because of certain circumstances, I could not.
Still, some of the things I read in those pages stayed with me in a way I never expected.
One idea, in particular, deeply affected me: when we repeatedly tell something to our subconscious mind, our mind can gradually begin to believe it.
At that time, I had no idea how important this thought would become in one of the most difficult periods of my life.
When my mother became ill and we had to face the difficult reality of cancer, I remembered that idea from the book.
I started saying encouraging things to my mother, and I tried to remind myself of the same things again and again. I wanted both of us to believe that we could not allow fear to break us. We had to keep giving our minds messages of hope and courage.
I would never claim that those words cured my mother’s illness. Her illness was a reality, and her treatment was, and continues to be, through doctors and medical care.
But those thoughts certainly helped us find some mental strength to face that difficult time.
Because when illness enters a family, it is not only the body that becomes tired.
The mind becomes tired too.
Sometimes fear feels bigger than everything else.
Sometimes thinking about the future becomes frightening.
And during such moments, holding on to one thought and repeating it to yourself can become a small source of strength that helps you keep going.
That became one of the most important lessons I took from that book.
I had not even finished reading it, yet some of its pages stood beside me during one of the most difficult periods of my life.
That made me realize that perhaps the value of a book cannot always be measured by how many pages we have read.
Sometimes a single idea can settle so deeply inside us that it stays with us longer than the entire book.
But that does not mean I do not want to finish the book.
I do.
Whenever I find the time, I want to pick it up again and read it all the way to the last page.
Because if only a few parts of that book could be so meaningful to me during such an important time in my life, I feel there must still be so much more waiting for me in the pages I have not yet read.
Perhaps the book is incomplete for me, but the lesson it gave me is not.
And maybe that is what makes me think about books so deeply.
Books have always had a different place in my life.
I have never been someone who made many friends.
The one or two friends I did make eventually became busy with their own lives. Some paths simply went in different directions, while with others, our thoughts and ways of seeing life no longer matched.
But books were different.
They never asked why I returned to them after a long time.
They never complained that I had left them unfinished.
And they never told me that they did not have time for my questions.
Whenever I wanted to understand something, books were there.
Whenever I had a question in my mind, somewhere in the pages of a book, I often found a new way of looking at it.
And whenever life felt difficult, sometimes even a single thought from a book became a quiet source of support.
That is why books are not simply words printed on paper for me.
For me, books have been my true friends.
Perhaps there is one important difference between friends and books.
A friend may walk with us through one particular phase of our life, but a good book can meet us differently at different stages of our journey.
Something we read today may only make sense years later.
Something that seems ordinary today may become deeply meaningful when life places us in a difficult situation.
Perhaps that is why some books do not simply get read by us—
they slowly begin to read us.
We look for our questions among their pages.
And sometimes, we find a part of our own answer there too.
My book is still unfinished.
But I do not want to leave it that way.
I want to finish it—because even the few pages I have read have already given me so much.
And perhaps when I finally read the rest, those pages will help me understand another part of my life.
After all, finishing a book is not only about reaching its last page.
Perhaps what truly matters is how many pages of our own lives its words continue to walk through with us.
My unfinished book has taught me one thing for certain:
Some books we never manage to finish,
yet a few of their pages help us make sense of our lives.
And perhaps that is why, even today, that book is not simply sitting on my shelf.
“There is no age to learn. Whenever you feel like learning something new, you should go ahead and learn it. Because as long as we keep learning, we keep moving forward.”
We have heard this idea countless times—in books, speeches, social media, and perhaps even in our own lives.
But today, I want to look at this thought a little differently.
Is there really no age for learning?
Does this idea truly apply equally to everyone in our society?
And if it does, then who decides the age at which some people are allowed to learn, grow, or move forward?
Especially when that person is a girl or a woman.
There comes a time when, instead of being encouraged to study or dream about something new, a girl may hear—
“What more do you want to study now? It is time for you to get married.”
And this is where I began to ask myself:
If there is no age for learning, then why does our society decide an age for a girl’s dreams?
We often limit education to school, college, and degrees. But to me, learning is much bigger than that.
Learning a new language, developing a new skill, reading a book, understanding a social issue, learning about technology, or doing something meaningful for the people around us—all of these are forms of learning.
As long as a person continues to learn, there remains a possibility of growth.
So, if a woman decides to return to her studies at 25, 30, or even 40, why should she be told, “You are too late now”?
Perhaps this is the very moment when she has finally started thinking about herself.
Some people receive opportunities early in life, while others find them later. Some have to pause because of family responsibilities, while others are held back by financial or social circumstances.
Starting late does not mean failing.
Sometimes, starting late is the bravest beginning of all.
I have seen a way of thinking around me where many decisions about a girl’s life are given an age limit long before she is ready to make those decisions herself.
Study until a certain age.
Then get married.
After that, take care of the home.
And if, somewhere in between, she begins to dream of something different, questions begin.
But is life really such a straight line?
Does every girl have to achieve her dreams at the same age?
Does every woman have to move forward at the exact time society considers appropriate?
I don’t think life has one fixed timetable.
Every person’s circumstances are different. Some people begin at 18, some at 28, and some at 40.
So how can we decide that another person’s time to learn or grow has already ended?
In our society, the word “respect” carries a great deal of importance.
But sometimes we should also ask: whose respect are we protecting, and who is paying the price for it?
If a family’s honour is connected to where its daughter goes, whom she talks to, how much she studies, or what she chooses for her future, then perhaps it is time to think about that idea again.
Why should a girl’s dreams have to be restricted in order to protect a family’s honour?
Why should a woman’s independence be seen as a threat to her family’s reputation?
And the most important question—
Does a girl really reduce her family’s honour by making decisions about her own life?
I don’t think so.
An educated, aware, and independent woman is not a weakness for a family. She can become one of its greatest strengths
I am speaking especially about the social environment I have seen closely and experienced myself.
I do not believe every middle-class family is the same. Many families educate their daughters, give them opportunities, and support their dreams.
But there is also a part of our society where traditional expectations still have a strong influence on girls’ lives.
I feel that girls in such environments can sometimes find themselves in a difficult position.
They are told to dream, but not too big.
To study, but not so much that it changes the family’s expectations.
To move forward, but only within the boundaries already decided for them.
And when they try to step outside those boundaries, questions may arise about their behaviour, their character, or their family’s reputation.
This is not every girl’s experience. But wherever it happens, we need to talk about it.
Because a problem that is never discussed is much harder to solve.
I have also seen situations around me where a girl’s decision to continue her education or delay marriage for some time is not easily accepted.
Sometimes the questions do not stop at her age.
If she asks for more time to build her life, people may begin questioning her behaviour or even her character.
This is not the story of every family. Different parts of India have different social realities. But wherever such thinking exists, we need to speak about it openly.
A girl wanting to complete her education, become independent, or take time to think about her future should not become a reason to question her character.
Her dreams should never be treated as evidence against her character.
In many of my articles, I talk about the mistakes society makes.
But today, I want to ask myself another question.
Is society the only one responsible?
Perhaps not.
Sometimes we also accept the same beliefs that make us unhappy.
We worry about what people will say.
We fear that if we choose a different path, society may not accept us.
We suppress our own desires because we begin to believe that society’s approval is more important than our own lives.
This is where change can begin.
We do not need to fight every tradition. But we do need to learn the difference between a tradition that makes our lives better and one that simply limits us.
If a tradition gives us respect, support, and a sense of belonging, it has value.
But if a tradition is used to permanently stop someone from receiving an education, becoming independent, or pursuing a dream, then questioning it is also important.
I am also a part of this social environment.
I have spent important periods of my life waiting and hoping that perhaps circumstances would change.
Perhaps a path would appear.
Perhaps someone would understand me.
Perhaps someone would stand up for me.
But gradually, I understood that ultimately, I have to take responsibility for deciding the direction of my own life.
That does not mean we never need other people’s help.
It means that we have to become the first voice speaking for our own lives.
If we want to study, we have to look for opportunities.
If we want to learn a new skill, we have to begin.
If we want to contribute to society, we can take the first step, even if it is a small one.
Because change does not always begin on a large stage.
Sometimes it begins with a girl sitting in a small room and making one simple decision—
“I will not give up on my dream anymore.”
Over time, I realised that if we do not tell our own stories, many people may never understand how much we have kept inside.
That is why girls and women need to become their own voices.
This does not mean fighting over everything.
Sometimes finding your voice simply means asking yourself one question—
“What do I really want?”
And then honestly searching for the answer.
Perhaps the answer will not come immediately.
Perhaps the path will not appear immediately either.
But asking the question itself can be a beginning.
When a woman learns, the impact does not always remain limited to her own life.
An educated and aware woman may become more conscious of her children’s education. She may participate more actively in family decisions. She may also become an example for other women and girls in her community.
That is why girls’ and women’s education should not be seen only as a personal achievement.
It is also part of the development of families, communities, and society.
When one girl learns, the possibility of change can reach many other lives around her.
And perhaps this is why we need to look at education beyond the boundaries of age, gender, and social background.
Perhaps a girl is reading this article today and thinking—
“I wish I had started earlier.”
If you are thinking the same thing, I want to tell you just one thing:
You cannot change the past, but the next step is still in your hands.
Your age does not end your ability to learn.
Your circumstances do not define your entire identity.
And the boundaries created by others do not always have to become your final boundaries.
The beginning may be difficult.
Your family may not understand you immediately.
There may be moments when you feel completely alone.
But every change begins with a small decision.
To learn something today.
To read something today.
To speak for yourself today.
To think about your future today.
These small steps can slowly become the foundation of a new life.
And if you feel that you have started too late, tell yourself once again—
Which fictional world would be the most fun to vacation in?
Come, today, let me take you on a little journey through my fictional world.
,
If I ever got the chance to visit a fictional world, I would want to go to a place where time has slowed down, where magic exists, and where the relationship between nature and human beings is so beautiful that neither feels separate from the other.
A world where I would not have to worry about my age, whether I am a girl or a boy, or about all the identities and boundaries that society has created for us.
Just a world where, for a while, I could leave all of these things behind and simply be happy being myself.
That is my fictional world.
But then I began to wonder—why did I feel the need to escape into a fictional world in the first place?
Is it because we are attracted to its beauty? Or because of the carefree life it seems to offer?
Or perhaps, somewhere inside, we simply want to get away from our real lives for a little while.
Over the past few years, social media has brought us into contact with more people than ever before. We can talk to someone thousands of miles away within seconds. We have more technology, more comfort, more ways to entertain ourselves than previous generations could have imagined.
And yet, are we really happy?
More importantly, do we even remember who we are anymore?
Were we always the people we have become today?
As children, even the smallest things could keep us happy for hours. Rain could make us excited. Sitting beneath a tree could feel special. We could find an entire world in something that adults might consider insignificant.
But perhaps we don’t live that way anymore.
Because now, we hardly have any time.
We created technology to save time, but do we really have more time today?
We have also started capturing nature through our phones and cameras. We take beautiful photographs of sunsets, mountains, rivers, trees, and rain and keep them inside our devices.
But do we actually sit with nature for a while without worrying about anything, without looking at our phones?
Perhaps not.
We have slowly stopped feeling nature. We have stopped talking to it. We have stopped treating it like a friend.
Instead, we have turned nature into another resource for our development.
Maybe that is why, in my fictional world, I imagined such a beautiful relationship between nature and human beings.
When I said I wanted time to be still, I did not mean that I wanted life to stop forever.
Perhaps I simply want to live for a while without constantly worrying about what comes next.
A world where nature is not a means of development, but our friend.
A world where society does not decide beforehand what my limits should be because I am a girl or what my freedom should look like because someone is a boy.
A world where age does not tell us what we are allowed to dream about.
A world where we can once again feel the child inside us—the child who knew how to be happy about the smallest things.
But then another question comes to me.
Can we live this way only in a fictional world?
Has living like this really become impossible in our real world?
Or have we simply stopped allowing our real world to remain this way?
Perhaps the reason we want to visit fictional worlds is because they show us the things we have slowly left behind in our own world—time, nature, freedom, curiosity, and the simple joy of being ourselves.
So, can’t we make our real world a little more like the fictional world we dream about?
Maybe we cannot stop time, but we can stop running after it for a while.
Maybe we don’t need magic to make nature our friend again.
And perhaps we don’t need to enter another world to find the child we once were.
Maybe our fictional world is not somewhere far away.
Maybe it is hidden within our own real world—we have simply forgotten how to see it and feel it.
So perhaps the question is not really which fictional world we would choose for a vacation.
Perhaps the real question is: If we could change just one thing about our real world, what would we change first?
If you could go back and witness any historical event, which one would you pick?
If I could go back in time and witness one historical event, I would not choose a war, a king, or a great movement. Instead, I would want to witness those moments when someone took the courage to do something for the very first time—something that may have seemed impossible in that moment.
Because I want to see that moment when a person took the first step toward something that had never been done before. I want to know what was going on in that person’s mind before taking that step.
Did they have the same questions that sometimes come to our minds today?
“Am I thinking the right way?”
“Will people support me?”
“What if I take the first step and everyone turns against me?”
Perhaps, in some way, we are standing at a similar point today.
We can see that some things in society need to change. We question old ways of thinking. We sometimes feel that certain things should be different. But when it comes to actually beginning that change, we stop ourselves.
We think, perhaps someone else should start.
But maybe every change in history began with one person who did not wait for everyone else to move first.
Society has always needed change from time to time. Something that was useful or meaningful for us in the past does not necessarily have to remain the same forever. Time changes. Circumstances change. And with them, our way of thinking also needs to change.
When necessary changes are not made at the right time, the things we once accepted can eventually become barriers for us.
And perhaps some of those barriers already exist around us today.
This is not only about one country, one district, or one culture. It is a part of being human. Everywhere, at different times, someone must have looked at an old way of thinking and wondered if there could be another way.
That is why, if I had the opportunity to go back into history, I would not only want to see what the change was.
I would want to see how the change began.
I would want to understand the person who first thought about education when education was not available to everyone. I would want to see the woman who stepped outside the boundaries that had been created for her and chose a path of her own.
I would want to know how much courage she had to gather before taking that first step.
And then another question comes to my mind.
When someone decided to dedicate their life to their country, their culture, their society, or even nature—what was happening inside their mind at that moment?
Were they afraid too?
Did they ever stop and ask themselves,
“Why me?”
Perhaps they did.
Maybe the difference between great people and the rest of us was not that they never felt afraid.
Maybe the difference was that they took the first step despite their fear.
And when I look at my own life today, I feel that perhaps my desire to witness history is actually my desire to understand my present.
Perhaps this thought came to me because, even today, we live among many things that make us feel that change is necessary.
We follow certain rules that society has already decided for us. We walk on paths that were created long before we even had the chance to choose our own.
From an early age, certain boundaries are drawn around our lives.
If you are a girl, there are things you are told you cannot do.
If you are a boy, there are things you are told you should not do.
If you have reached a certain age, you are told that it is no longer the right time to do certain things.
Slowly, these ideas become so normal that we stop questioning them.
But somewhere inside us, a question still remains:
Is life really meant to be this predetermined?
Does every person really need to follow a path that has already been decided for them?
Can we not think beyond those paths?
Perhaps we can.
And perhaps we already do.
But then we reach the same question again:
How do we take the first step?
Maybe this is where my present and history meet.
When I think about change today, I wonder if the people who took the first steps in history also felt something similar.
Perhaps they too looked around and felt that something was not right.
Perhaps they too thought that things could be different.
And perhaps they too had fears—fear of what people would say, what their families would think, how society would react, and what would happen if they failed.
Yet, someone took that step.
And today, we see the result of that step as history.
That thought touches me deeply.
Because when we look at great people in history, we often see them as great from the beginning. We see their achievements, their courage, and the impact they eventually created.
But we rarely see the moment before all of that.
The moment when they were simply human—standing with their questions, their doubts, their fears, and their uncertainty.
That is the moment I want to witness.
I want to know how that person stood with their fear and still moved forward.
Because perhaps I have some of those questions within me today too.
Perhaps I also want to look at certain things differently.
Perhaps I am also trying to think beyond some of the paths that have already been decided for us.
But I can see the distance between having an idea and actually creating change.
And perhaps that is why I want to experience the first step of those people in history.
Because history is what has, in many ways, shaped our present.
Many things that feel normal to us today were once new ideas to someone.
Many paths that we can walk on today were once created because someone, somewhere, had the courage to take the first step.
Maybe if we can understand those first steps, we can also understand the steps we need to take in our own present a little better.
Because we too have ideas within us.
Some are about our own lives.
Some are about society.
And some may even be about the generations that will come after us.
But an idea does not become change on its own.
For an idea to become change, someone has to take the first step.
So, if I were given the chance to go back and witness one historical event, I would not want to see a great result.
I would want to witness that small, almost invisible moment when a human being decided not to let an idea remain only an idea—and turned it into a first step.
Perhaps history does not only tell us how the world changed.
Perhaps it also reminds us that every great change once began as a small thought in the mind of one person.
And perhaps my desire to witness history is not really a desire to go back into the past.
Perhaps I want to go back only to understand the courage that my present needs today.
If you could relive one day from your past, which day would it be and why?
When I read this question—
“If you could relive one day from your past, which day would it be, and why?”
—the first thought that came to my mind was:
Why just one day?
There are so many moments from our past that we wish we could live again. Some memories bring a smile to our faces, while others leave us quietly thinking,
“I wish I could go back there, just once.”
But when I thought about the question more deeply, I realized that I don’t have just one special day that I would want to relive.
I have an entire journey.
When we look back from where we are today, we don’t remember just one day.
We remember years.
We remember faces.
We remember little moments that once seemed so ordinary.
And when we were actually living those moments, we never imagined that one day we would miss them this much.
Back then, it felt like life would always remain the same.
The same people would always be around us.
The same roads would still be there.
The same laughter would fill our days.
We never really thought that time would slowly change everything.
But today, when we are far away from those days—and sometimes even far away from our own homes—we begin to see those ordinary days differently.
They don’t seem ordinary anymore.
They seem precious.
Sometimes I look back and wonder if we even had anything special back then.
And then I realize—
we had everything.
We had time.
We had people around us.
We had friends.
We had days that were not filled with endless worries.
And most importantly,
we were simply living.
If I were given the chance to go back about twelve years, I don’t think I would choose just one day.
I would want to return to the days connected to my school life.
Those days when life wasn’t so complicated.
When there wasn’t always something to worry about.
When spending an ordinary day with friends was enough to make the whole day feel beautiful.
And then there was the journey after school—the years when I was surrounded by some of the most special people in my life.
At that time, we didn’t know that those ordinary days would eventually become some of the most precious memories of our lives.
We were simply living them.
We didn’t worry that one day they would end.
We didn’t know that one day we would look back and wish we could experience them again.
Today, life has become so busy that sometimes we don’t even have enough time for ourselves.
And the more life moves forward, the more I miss those days.
Today, perhaps we have more things than we did back then.
But we also have more responsibilities.
More worries.
More expectations.
More running after the future.
And somewhere between all of it, I feel that we have slowly moved away from ourselves.
Sometimes I wonder—
in trying to build a better life, did we forget how to live it?
And then I want to go back.
Just once.
Back to those days when there was no great destination to reach, yet every day felt beautiful.
When we may not have had much, but somehow our hearts felt full.
When we weren’t constantly thinking about the future.
We were simply present in the moment.
Maybe that’s why I now understand that I don’t really miss one particular day.
I miss an entire journey.
The days I spent with my friends.
Or perhaps calling them just “friends” doesn’t quite describe what they mean to me.
They were some of the most precious people in my life, and the years I spent with them still live somewhere inside me.
Those ordinary days have become some of my most treasured memories.
And perhaps this is one of the most beautiful—and slightly painful—truths about life:
When we are living a moment, we don’t always understand its value.
The moment passes.
Years go by.
People grow distant.
Places change.
Life changes.
And one day, we look back and think,
“If only I had known how precious those days were.”
Maybe I would have lived them a little more fully.
Maybe I would have laughed a little longer.
Maybe I would have stayed a little longer.
Maybe I would have spent more time with the people I loved.
But time doesn’t move backwards.
And perhaps that is why, whenever I think about those days, one wish keeps returning to me:
I wish I could take myself twelve years back.
Back to those streets.
Back to those days.
Back to those people.
Back to that version of life where every day was so ordinary that I never realized how special it was.
And today, those same ordinary days have become priceless to me.
So, if someone asked me,
“If you could relive just one day from your past, which day would it be?”
I don’t think I could give them the name of a single day.
I don’t have just one day.
I have an entire journey.
A journey that began with my school days and continued through the years I spent with the people who made that part of my life so beautiful.
And if I ever had the chance, I would want to relive that entire journey.
Because now I understand something I didn’t understand back then:
The most beautiful days of our lives don’t always arrive looking special.
Sometimes, they arrive as completely ordinary days.
We live them and move on.
And only when they are far behind us do we realize—
those were the days we once called ordinary, but they were actually some of the most precious days of our lives.
What’s a cultural tradition from your country that you love?
Come with me today, and let me introduce you to a part of my country and my village’s culture—something that is not merely a tradition for us, but a part of our everyday lives.
And I believe that, just as deeply as we love this part of our culture, you too will feel connected to it once you know its story.
There is one beautiful expression in India that can introduce you to the spirit of our people in just a few words: “Atithi Devo Bhava.”
It means “The guest is like God.”
India has such a diverse culture that even if you travel from one district to another, you can discover a new experience, a new kind of happiness, and a new identity.
From North India to South India, and from East India to West India, every corner has its own way of life, traditions, and stories.
Sometimes, I feel that if someone travelled across the whole of India, it would almost feel like travelling through many different countries at once.
But today, I want to introduce you to one of the most beautiful values of India—one that has become a part of our identity: Atithi Devo Bhava.
Recently, I heard a story that made me feel proud of this culture once again.
A visitor from Australia had come to India to travel. He wanted to visit Jammu and Kashmir, so he booked a ride to take him there.
The person who accepted the ride was not highly educated. The visitor explained where he wanted to go, and the driver began the journey using a map.
But after travelling for almost four days, they ended up at the wrong destination.
Many people might have become frustrated or simply left the situation there.
But this man did something different.
He helped the visitor, took him to his own home, arranged a place for him to stay, and treated him with so much respect and warmth that the visitor was deeply touched.
He said that after many years, he had once again felt such genuine warmth and affection.
To me, this is what Atithi Devo Bhava truly means.
It is not simply about offering food to a guest or using respectful words.
It is about making another person feel:
“You are not alone here.”
And perhaps the best way for me to explain this feeling is to tell you about a tradition from my own village—one that does not depend on any particular festival.
It is not a tradition that feels like a burden.
Instead, it is a time of happiness that people wait for throughout the year.
Every year, a seven-day Bhagwat gathering takes place in our village.
But for me, the most beautiful part is not simply the religious gathering itself.
It is what these seven days bring with them.
People come home.
People who have not returned home for weeks or months make their way back to the village during these days.
Relatives come too—sometimes even relatives whom some of us may have never met before.
There are also people whose homes are no longer in the village, but who still want to return. They want to meet their people. Whether they live somewhere else in India or even in another country, these days give them a feeling of being home and belonging somewhere.
Whenever I see this, I feel incredibly fortunate.
Because in a country like ours, even if you no longer have a home in your village, you do not necessarily have to worry about being alone.
You can return—and somehow, your people are still there.
I have been a part of this tradition since childhood, and I have watched it year after year.
Another beautiful part of it is the food.
Every day, food is prepared for around 700 to 800 people.
And it is not prepared by one person.
The people of the village come together to prepare it.
The feeling is simple:
No one who comes to our village should leave hungry.
On the final day, the gathering becomes even larger.
Food is prepared not just for our village, but for people from around six or seven nearby villages as well. Including visitors from outside, food is prepared for around 5,000 people.
Preparing food for so many people is impressive, but what touches me even more is seeing the entire village come together to make it happen.
No one asks how old you are.
No one asks whether you are young or old, a man or a woman.
Everyone has a place.
Children are there. Adults are there. Elderly people are there.
We learn many things from our elders, and sometimes, our elders learn something new from us.
And somehow, these seven days pass so quickly that we hardly realise when they are over.
Every year, when I become a part of this tradition, I feel that perhaps this is one of the few times when we truly come together.
We meet our people.
We reconnect with them.
And for a few days, we step away from our busy lives and simply spend time with one another.
India has countless traditions like this—traditions that give us a chance to connect.
Some teach us to sit together.
Some teach us to share.
Some teach us to learn from those who came before us.
And some simply remind us how important the people around us are.
Perhaps that is why I love my culture so deeply.
Because it does not only connect us to our roots.
It connects us to one another.
It teaches us to respect the person who walks through our door.
Because that person is not merely a guest.
They are a human being who has come to our doorstep—and our culture teaches us to welcome them with the spirit of “Atithi Devo Bhava.”
