WALKING WITH PEACE

Lessons From The Journey 

Peace is not just a word. It is a practice, a journey and sometimes, a path walked step by step in heat, rain, cold or snow. 

Over the past weeks, I’ve been following the Walk for Peace, where monks traverse hundreds of miles, offering blessings, kindness and a quiet example of endurance, patience and love.

Through this series, I’ll share reflections from what I’ve witnessed; their courage, their humor, their humanity and the lessons their journey inspires. 

These are not tales of perfection but stories of ordinary human beings, carrying pain, hope, laughter and compassion… and walking forward anyway.

I hope that as you read, you feel a little closer to the simple yet profound truth they embody ie peace begins with awareness, patience and an open heart.

(Next Blog: Why the Walk For Peace Touched My Heart) 

REMEMBERING MORNING MAGIC WITH MOM

Even now, I can smile remembering the mornings with my mom. She had this playful way of tricking me into thinking I could sleep in.

“Tomorrow, we wake up late, ok?” she’d say. And I’d nod, happy for the promise of a slow morning.

But come the next day, I’d be greeted by the aroma of her sambar simmering, soft thosai on the griddle and a special ghee thosai just for me. 

I’d tease her, “Someone told me we could wake up late!” and she would smile, a smile that last longer by holding back her laughter…😊😂

Those mornings weren’t just about food or routine, they were about love, care and little acts that made ordinary days feel magical. 

Even now, a year without her, I feel her warmth in those memories, in every laugh, every taste, every gentle nudge of love.

Little moments, big love. Mom, you’re always with me. ❤️✨❤️

What little moments from your mornings make you smile? 

THAI AMAVASAI, A LAMP FOR THE DEPARTED AND THE SANDALS I LEFT BEHIND

This morning unfolded quietly, almost unexpectedly.

Late last night, my cousin brother texted to remind me that today is Thai Amavasai, which is an important day in the Tamil calendar, dedicated to remembering and honoring those who have left us ie. parents, grandparents, siblings, ancestors.

It felt last-minute. I had just had two glasses of wine while watching Emily in Paris on Netflix and was ready to call it a night. But something in me said, okay. That was it. No overthinking.

So this morning, I woke up early, showered, dressed decently (as one must for temple visits😄)and drove to the temple. 

I removed my shoes, entered the temple, bought a Moksha Deepam, a small clay oil lamp and paid for a simple fruits offering. Our usual priest wasn’t around, so another priest conducted a group prayer. One by one, we stood in line, offering the names of our departed loved ones.

The Moksha Deepam is known as the Lamp of Liberation which is lit with the intention of peace, release and onward journey for the soul and quiet acceptance for those of us left behind.

After the prayers, I sat for a while. No rush. Just stillness.

Then I drove home.

Only when I reached my car park did I realize! I had left my sandals behind at the temple (I’m used to driving without shoes all the time!!😂).

Well, the sandals wasn’t just any sandals. A comfy, slightly pricey pair that I rarely use…and for some reason, chose to use today.

I paused for exactly one second. Then decided. No turning back.

I got out of the car and walked barefoot all the way to the lift, up to the 17th floor, thinking, I’ll wash my feet when I get home.

But here’s the funny part. No dirt! Nothing. Clean floors, clean lift, clean walk. I laughed to myself.

And then it felt clear.

I decided to leave the sandals there.

Maybe someone needed them more. Maybe someone had been wishing. Maybe it was simply meant to be.

And I could almost hear my mom’s voice, amused and practical as ever:

“It’s ok. Leave it. Someone will use.”

Now it’s late Sunday morning. I’m sitting at Starbucks with a latte and a sandwich, laptop open, choosing work over Netflix (small victories 😅).

Today wasn’t planned. But it was meaningful.

A lamp lit. A quiet remembrance. A small letting go.

And somehow, that feels just right.

And somewhere in all of this, the lamp, the walk, the sandals left behind….I felt my mom close.

Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just quietly present.

In the way things unfolded without force. In the ease of letting go. And in the small, practical wisdom that life doesn’t need to be held so tightly.

She taught me that…long before I knew I’d need it.

And today, on Thai Amavasai, I light a lamp not just for her journey…but in gratitude for the way she still walks beside me, reminding me:

“Enough already. You did good.” 

LISTENING TO THE IN-BETWEEN

There are days when nothing dramatic happens.

No big decisions, no milestones, no clear endings or beginnings.

Just moments stitched together quietly; breath, work, pauses, thoughts…thoughts…and more thoughts….drifting in and out.

Today felt like that.

After days filled with movement, emotions, writing, teaching, remembering, I found myself simply being. 

Sitting with unfinished tasks, choosing not to rush. 

Letting the body speak; a little tired, a little sore yet a little grateful. Letting the mind wander without demanding answers.

I noticed how easy it is to feel torn in between what I want to do and what I need to do. Between passion and responsibility. Between the mat and the desk. And instead of judging that tension, I just watched it.

Vipassana taught me this; not to label every moment as productive or wasted, good or bad BUT to notice it as it is. 

Even indecision has a texture. Even rest has weight. Even choosing “not now” is a form of clarity.

Tonight, there was work (lots of ‘em) then a pause, a screen glowing softly in the background and a quiet sense of relief in allowing myself to slow down. 

No guilt. No proving. Just acknowledging where I am.

Some days, growth doesn’t look like effort. It looks like listening.

And today, listening was enough……

THE 30 DAYS YOGA CHALLENGE

Joining, Feeling It…and Choosing Work

I flirted with the idea of joining a 30 days yoga challenge; for a while, excitement on one side, reality on the other. 

The challenge officially started on 10/1. 

I joined on 12/1… because why not? 😅

And when I joined, I went all in; two classes in the morning and two in the evening. My body remembered yoga very quickly… and also reminded me that four classes in a day is no joke 🤣😂.

Coming home in the evening after yoga, I switched on my phone. (We’re not allowed phones in class.) Since returning from Vipassana, my relationship with my phone has been distant! 😂

And there it was; audio messages and texts about work. My admin work (working remotely from home) had piled up. After a quick shower, I did what I could and then turned off my laptop and went to bed; happy, excited and utterly exhausted. The moment my head hit the pillow, I drifted off and woke up the next morning, bright and early, fully rested.

Then came more work messages. I decided to skip the morning yoga challenge classes I had intended to attend. I spent the day working and by midday, my body reminded me loudly, that four classes yesterday had been a lot. Along with the soreness came a little regret …“Should I have continued?” 

Because honestly, if it weren’t for work, I would’ve jumped out of bed and gone straight to the mat without hesitation.

But reality checked in. Work needs me. Admin work pays my bills. And right now, that has to take priority. So I made a conscious choice to pause the challenge; not because I didn’t love it, but because I couldn’t fully commit to it.

And again, thoughts of Vipassana arose… it reminded me, as yoga often does, that listening matters. Listening to the body, yes… but also to life as it is. There’s no failure here, only awareness.

The challenge can wait. The mat will always be there, in the studio or at home. The practice lives in me anyway. And when the timing aligns again, I’ll return, to either continue the 30‑days challenge or look forward to next year’s.

Right now, i’m done working for the day…shutting down my laptop and getting to sleep…😴💤

Have you taken part in a 30 days yoga challenge before? I’d love to hear your experience!

Yoga reminded me to breathe. Work reminded me to scream quietly. Balance achieved. 😅🧘🏽‍♀️

THE BIRD THAT FLEW IN

On 2/1, I was at home in my living hall, Netflix on, body relaxed, mind slightly lazy. One of those quiet, unplanned moments where time feels soft.

Ever since my mom’s passing, little birds have been appearing near my place. About a week after she left, they started hanging around the aircond compressor area; a small extension of my hall that opens to the outside. I usually keep that door open because I don’t have a balcony and I like the wind to come in.

I noticed the pattern.

I even told my nephew about it. He suggested I leave out a small tub of water or some grains of rice. I thought about it for a while and chose a small tub of water. At first, only one fellow came …😂 then, slowly, he brought friends.

The funny thing is, they announce themselves.They make little noises, perch on top of the compressor and somehow let me know they’ve arrived. 

On days they didn’t come, I’d find myself standing by the glass panel, looking far and wide, wondering why. Almost as if summoned, they’d appear the next day; solo or with company.

So this particular day, two of them came.

I stood up from the couch to close the door, and in that split second, one flew away and the other flew into my house.

Panic 😂

The little one landed on my fridge. I started waving my hands, gently calling for it to go out. It looked scared. Trapped. And honestly, so was I !!! 

I’m not great with furry (or feathery) surprises and my heart was racing.

I gathered courage and walked towards the fridge, planning to open the main door so it could escape. But fear does funny things, the bird flew towards my glass windows instead. They’re so transparent you can see the sky, clouds, high-rise buildings…and it must have thought it was open.

It hit the glass.

My heart stopped.

But in a miracle of timing and instinct, the window was slightly open and the little one managed to fly out.

Just like that.

I don’t know how I managed it. Or how calm found me when fear was so close. Since that day, I’ve kept the door closed and the window open. The birds still come. They still announce themselves. Only now, there’s a quiet agreement between us.

They stay outside.

I stay watching.

And something unseen stays connected.

MY FIRST YIN YANG YOGA CLASS OF 2026

Listening Inward 

My first Yin Yang yoga class of the new year unfolded on yesterday, Friday 9 January 2026. It was a quiet yet a powerful return.

While I was away in Nepal, I had subbed my classes out to another teacher. Almost a month without my own practice, followed by my mom’s one-year prayers and some much-needed rest, meant my body had truly been in pause mode.

The class was almost full, mostly my regular students, with a few new faces woven in. 

Walking into the studio felt like coming home. Some of my students are also close friends and we greeted each other with hugs, smiles and that unspoken understanding that time away doesn’t loosen connection.

The theme of the class was listening:

listening to the body,

listening to the mind,

listening to the heart.

In the days leading up to class, both at home and again in the studio, I practiced the yang flow I had crafted. The sequence revolved around side planks, woven through transitions.

My body definitely had opinions.

After weeks without practice, it felt a little stiff, a little vocal reminding me gently that the body keeps score. A few cracks here and there, but nothing alarming. As I moved through a few rounds, the body slowly responded, warmed up and remembered.

On Friday morning, I woke up bright and early, surprisingly pain-free and ready for my first class of the year.

And it exceeded my expectations.

There was laughter, warmth, effort and presence. The heated studio amplified everything; breath, focus, strength. Those side-plank transitions became a real “pick-me-up flow”, grounding yet energizing.

One moment touched me deeply.

I have a 14-year-old student, Edison. When he saw me, he lit up, loud, joyful, unmistakably happy. He was seated at the back row, smiling wide. I hugged him and in that moment, I was reminded again why I teach. Yoga is connection. Presence. Being seen.

After the Yang practice, we eased into Yin:

seated butterfly

supported hamstring stretch with a strap

a gentle supine twist

and 

finally, shavasana.

A soft landing after strength.

Listening again, this time to stillness.

It was a wonderful Friday, put to beautiful use.

A return, not just to teaching, but to myself.