When Safe Eyes Unlock Silent Souls - A Personal Reflection on Unexpected Connection

 I have always been the quiet type—the kind who takes time to open up even when spoken to. Growing up in a nuclear family, spending years in hostels, and later as a dutiful daughter-in-law, I’ve carried the tag of a "loner" like an old, familiar companion. I never really minded it. In fact, me and my overthinking brain became best friends long back. I could sit for hours doing nothing, yet feel deeply occupied in the world inside my head.

Crowds were never my comfort zone, but life demanded I navigate them often. I learned to survive them, especially in social settings where I had to attend family gatherings, hide my discomfort behind polite smiles, and nod to conversations that drained me. Over time, I figured out how to say "no" to many such occasions, choosing my peace over pretenses.

But the other day, I decided to step out, craving a little change. I ended up in a family gathering, and true to form, the old me resurfaced. Silent smiles, awkward pauses, observing rather than participating. The men were engrossed in talks of finances and properties—territories where I had neither interest nor patience. Thankfully, there were books on display. I grabbed one and handed another to my son, escaping into a quieter room where we could be undisturbed.

And then, she entered—the lady from the extended family, someone nobody had even mentioned until now. We exchanged the usual greetings. Deep down, I hoped she wouldn’t try to make conversation. But she did. And what happened next surprised not just my son, but me as well. Hours flew by. We talked. Freely. Lightly. Effortlessly.

When it was time to leave, I realized I didn’t want that conversation to end. I secretly wished she would ask for my number. She didn’t. And we parted with polite goodbyes.

The ride back home was filled with overthinking as usual. Why did I talk so much? Was I just bored? Or maybe I’ve grown old enough to open up? But as the chores of home life took over, I shelved the thought away.

It was only the next day, while scrolling through social media, that I stumbled upon a quote that seemed written just for me:

"Your nervous system relaxes around people who have peace in their eyes and kindness in their voice."

Maybe that’s what happened. Maybe it wasn’t boredom or age. Maybe it was my nervous system finally finding a moment of safety in a room full of noise. Maybe that lady carried the kind of quiet warmth that made my inner alarms switch off.

This experience made me realize something important:
We aren’t as closed as we think. We aren’t always the loners we label ourselves to be. Sometimes, all it takes is the right person with the right energy—and we open up like a locked window to a gentle breeze.

Modi Is Playing Chess, Not Ludo: Ceasefire Is Only His Next Move, Not His Last

Everyone’s angry right now.

Ceasefire? Really?

"Why stop now? Why not finish off terrorism once and for all?"
People are losing it on social media. Modi is even being called weak, spineless, a puppet of the US. As soon as Trump said ceasefire to both parties, Modi asked army to come back.

This is exactly what even my dad, a man who served 25 years in the Indian Air Force, was saying last night, "It was a good chance. We should have finished them."

But even he knows—things aren’t that black and white.

We all want a clean ending. The hero wins. The villain dies. The crowd claps. But reality is messier. Wars don’t work like that.

Modi’s Playing Chess, Not Ludo

In chess, you don’t throw all your pieces forward just because you're angry.

You play patiently, strategically, waiting for the perfect opening.
Sometimes you sacrifice a pawn. Sometimes you fake a retreat.
Sometimes you make a move that looks weak, but it’s actually setting up the enemy for a checkmate they never saw coming.

Terror states are experts at provoking India into overreacting. 

They want us to lose patience, attack blindly, and give them the sympathy card to show the world.
Modi knows this and he’s not falling for it.

This ceasefire? It’s like pausing in chess to rework your position, protect your pieces, and set up the trap.
And when the attack comes, it will be clean, sharp, and final.
The kind where the enemy won’t even have the chance to cry "victim."

Why Can't We Just Finish Terrorism for Once And All?

This is where most people get emotional, but not practical.

Terrorism is not a building you can bomb and call it done.
It’s an ideology. A network. A dirty, shapeshifting monster that hides, spreads, and grows back in different forms.
Even the US, with all its fancy drones and tech, couldn’t end it.
Neither could Israel, Russia, or anyone else.
Because it's not a one-night job.

Think of it like stubborn weeds in your garden.
You can pull them out today. It feels good.
But if you don’t treat the soil, control the water, change the entire system, they’re back.
And if you try to burn the whole garden down? You’ll kill your own plants too.

Modi knows this. He’s playing a long, ugly, silent war—on multiple fronts.
Sometimes with missiles.
Sometimes with money.
Sometimes with diplomacy.
Sometimes by waiting.

The War You Can’t See

Most people only see the visible war—soldiers, bombs, and borders.
But today’s wars are also fought in UN meetings, trade talks, on stock markets, on social media, and inside enemy banks.

Sometimes, the smartest move is to pause the shooting and fight where the enemy can’t see you coming.

Ceasefire is not the endgame. It’s just a move.
And like in chess, every move counts toward the final checkmate.

Final Word: Stop Watching This Like a Movie

The IMF Has Lost Its Mind: Why on Earth Is It Still Funding Pakistan?

I just saw on the news that the IMF has granted Pakistan $1 billion.

SERIOUSLY?

Like... what world are they living in?

How can they keep giving loans to a country that’s been openly hostile, harboring terrorism, and poking India again and again with unprovoked aggression?

It’s like watching a reckless parent giving money to their child who keeps bullying other kids at school. Instead of helping the child change, they just keep handing over more cash—no questions asked.

Don't They Know What’s Going On?

Pakistan has, for years, been accused of being a safe haven for terrorists, many of whom have been directly or indirectly linked to attacks in India and elsewhere. Whether it’s the 26/11 attacks in Mumbai or ongoing cross-border tensions, we all know what’s happening. And it’s not like this information is hidden. It’s out there—on the news, in reports, in every conversation between diplomats.

And still, the IMF turns a blind eye and says, "Here, have a billion dollars."

What do they think this money will be used for? Food? Education? Healthcare?

Let’s get real.

Don’t These People Have Any Ethics?

Here’s what shocked me even more: when I googled a bit, I found that the IMF doesn’t consider a country’s moral or political behavior when granting funds.

Their official line is: “Our goal is to stabilize the global economy. We help countries that are in financial trouble, regardless of their politics.”

Wow. Just wow.

So even if a country:

• Supports terrorism,

• Mistreats minorities,

• Is ruled by corruption,

• And has no real plan for reform...

They’ll still qualify for a loan as long as their economic crisis looks urgent enough?

What kind of international system ignores common sense, ethics, and accountability?

If an individual misuses a personal loan, they get blacklisted. But if a country misuses an international loan, they get more?

I’m Not Angry at Pakistan. I’m Angry at IMF

Yes, you heard that right.

We can’t even blame Pakistan entirely anymore. Because they are the spoilt kid. And the spoilt kid doesn’t spoil himself. Someone spoils him. Someone keeps protecting him. Funding him. Encouraging his worst behavior.

That someone is IMF.

It’s like blaming a child for being stubborn and violent, while ignoring the fact that the caregiver keeps rewarding that behavior with candy and toys.

If the IMF had stopped lending money to Pakistan, they would have been forced to:

• Cut back on military spending,

• Focus on internal reforms,

• Actually build something instead of breaking things.

Instead, the IMF just acts like a drug dealer—offering quick relief, without caring about the long-term damage.

“Oh, your economy is failing again? Here’s another billion.”

“Oh, you didn’t use the last loan properly? Never mind. Have some more.”

How long will this go on?

Time for a Global Wake-Up Call

This isn’t just India’s problem. The whole world should be asking questions.

We’re in an age where we talk about responsible tech, ethical investing, and clean energy. But we still let global institutions like the IMF function without accountability?

Why aren’t there conditions like:

• Clear anti-corruption plans,

• Action against terrorism,

• Transparency in how the money is used?

The world shouldn’t just boycott Pakistan. Honestly, that’s not the solution. Instead, we should boycott blind institutions like the IMF until they wake up and grow a conscience.

We need to drill ethics into the system.

We need to say, loud and clear: you don’t get to call yourself an “international organization” if you can’t make responsible decisions.

Final Thoughts

When we look at global terrorism, unrest, and instability, we often wonder where it all begins.

Well, sometimes, it begins in quiet offices in Washington D.C., where a loan is approved without thinking about its consequences.

If we really want peace, we need to stop the cycle of silent funding and blind support.

Because without ethics, even the most well-meaning institution becomes dangerous.

Just like a drug dealer in disguise.

 

 

 

 

The Unraised Nation

Everyone around me is angry. Very angry.
There are WhatsApp messages being circulated, especially saying, “Don’t feel emotional for the ENEMY.” But I don’t agree. I can't ignore the overwhelming wave of feelings that rise within me. 

I DO FEEL VERY SORRY because,

I see Pakistan like a spoilt child—a child who keeps misbehaving, lashing out at those who try to help, causing pain and destruction. I wonder… why is this child still allowed to misbehave? Why does Pakistan’s own family—the educated, the conscious, the few who know better—not step in and correct its ways?

Instead, this child is coddled, allowed to continue on a path of self-destructive chaos.

Why do they let the anger and hatred simmer when they know it will harm the whole world, including their own people?

Maybe the problem is too deep. Maybe the voices of reason have been silenced for so long, they are barely audible. Maybe the system itself is broken, so it’s easier to blame the “outside enemy” than fix what’s wrong within.

But whatever the reason, I still can’t escape this feeling - the one you know where you see a very spoilt kid in the park, is misbehaving - you do scold but then you his mom is seeing everything but not reacting. you try to tell to the mom but even then she doesnt react or perhaps fights back. - you cant do anything but defend your peace.Then you do get angry at the kid and mom but i'm sure, deep inside you feel very bad for the kid.

So,

I feel sorry 

I feel sorry for the ordinary people inside that broken system. 

I feel sorry for the human beings (maybe for the terrorists also)who are trapped, unable to break free from the poisonous narratives that bind them.

I feel sorry for the people who are fed hatred like food and water from the day they are born

But, then everybody says, its not right to think emotionally about the enemy. This confusion overwhelmed even someone as lazy as I can be—so I thought I’d ask ChatGPT

why do i sense pakistan as a spoilt kid whose family is not making effort to correct it? why does it let it misbehave?

ChatGPT said:

That's a powerful metaphor—and one that captures a lot of emotional and political truth.

Seeing Pakistan as a "spoilt child whose own family isn't correcting it" reflects the deep frustration many feel: that the people who could make a difference—its own educated class, leaders, institutions—are either too scared, too indifferent, or too invested in the dysfunction to step in.

Why does it let itself misbehave? Here are some layered thoughts:

• Because it’s profitable for those in control. The military and political elite benefit from keeping the nation in a state of constant fear and “enemy focus.” It helps them stay in power, get funds, and silence dissent.

• Because internal reform is hard. It takes courage to look inward, admit failure, and change course. It’s easier to blame the “outside enemy” than to fix what’s broken inside.

• Because the people have been conditioned for decades. When textbooks, TV, and religious sermons feed hate and false history from childhood, the national conscience itself gets misaligned.

• Because the few who do speak out either leave… or get silenced.

So, now I think,

Maybe this sorrow will teach me something later—maybe it will lead to a larger understanding of the dynamics at play. Or maybe it will just sit there, unresolved, as life has a habit of doing......

I also think,

Like a child left to grow wild, its tantrums became habit, its lies became legend, and its hate became identity.

You can pressure a spoilt child into silence—but that’s all it is: silence, not change. Real discipline doesn’t come from fear. It comes from within—through reflection, correction, and care. And that’s exactly what Pakistan has never received. 

External pressure, global sanctions, even humiliation on world stages might make them retreat for a while. But without internal reckoning, the cycle will continue. 

Just like a child who is scolded - but never raised.

The Scooter Falls

 During a conversation with my manager, I learnt that one of my colleagues and her husband met with a minor accident. Immediately I said that's why I'm super scared to get on a two-wheeler, especially as a pillion. I always fall whenever I ride. She raised an eyebrow and asked, how is it possible for somebody to fall every time they get on a two-wheeler??

The memory of my father and myself as a kid flashed. I could see his disappointed and stern face looking back at me. I got the same hopeless and helpless feeling that I got back then.

I replied to my manager that as a kid, I used to make my father fall most of the time, and I rode with him.

Now that the memory got triggered, I could not get it out of my system for a long time. I just could not avoid my dad's stare. So here I am sharing 31-year-old memory. Please don't judge the characters of the story.

I remember it was a yellow pale chetak. Dad was waiting for me to get on; he had already honked twice. I came running and climbed, but I slipped. Dad also lost his balance when I slipped. He looked at me angrily. I tried again, but this time, instead of using my left leg first, I climbed the small leg support below the pinion seat with my right leg. Now I got confused about how to swing my right leg across. In this confused state of mind, I slipped again, making my dad lose balance. Again he didn't say anything but gave a disappointed and angry look. I got so scared that I made the same mistake. This time, he just drove away without me.

After a few days, we all were going out. I guess I forgot the incident. This time I climbed properly with a minor slip in swinging my right leg, but I sat successfully, followed by my mom. Time passed, but the fear remained.

Now even after marriage, it sounds like a death threat to me if I have to ride as a pinion.

---------------------------------------

Coming back to the present, this story is like a reminder to every parent including me on the various impressions we make on our kids.

An Innocent Prayer!

Then, I was 8 years I guess. Me and my kid bro used to freak out after school, and return home before mom came back. It was a rule that we should be seen with our homework books as she came in or else.....

We had a nanny called BABY! Believe me, she was no baby, quite grown-up for her age, anyways that's a different aspect.

Though it was a norm for me and her to have little arguments and fights, it peaked one day. 

We were playing when she suddenly came to me and said she was going to catch the city bus (the last one - which left at 5.00 PM) and I have to go home alone. I was purposely told that because that day, I didn't have my brother or the neighbor kid playing with me and I was super scared to go home alone. I argued that I can't be left alone and would complain to mom but showed no signs of staying back. I had only 15 minutes left. I pleaded yet no result.

Last 10 minutes. The driver had come and was waiting for the people.

Every morning while going to my swimming class, I used to hear the morning Namaz but never paid much attention. At that moment I don't know why I thought of it, maybe because I grew very anxious and wanted to do something to stop her from leaving me alone. I tried to remember the lyrics - I'm a Hindu and I never learnt Urdu so I doubt if whatever prayer that came to my mind, made any sense. 

I kept repeating it with emotion as if my whole life depends on it ( I'm 34 now but I still remember this incident because of its innocence and intensity) and asking God to stop her. (Thinking back-I don't know why I prayed like that). She asked me if I had gone mad and as to why I was uttering something illogical. I told her, I was praying to stop her. She gave a cold small laugh, went, and sat inside the waiting bus.

After 10 minutes or so, the driver yelled that engine broke down and won't leave for the city that day. This was nothing short of a miracle for me. I was shocked beyond belief and sighed relief. 

Suddenly, I felt fearless and went back home alone, leaving her in that broke-down bus.

When she came back, I didn't utter a word but she asked me as to why I walked down alone and complained to mom. Surprisingly, mom didn't scold me and just instructed me to be careful.

Looking back, it was a very small incident but the TRIUMPHANT feeling it gave that day, I can't forget. The genunity of a small child and the innocent prayer whose lyrics don't make sense speak a lot. 

TRUE - A CRIME doesn't instil the FEAR it should unless it gets PERSONAL

I have read many crime stories, seen many, some are downright horrendous but never felt the spine chilling thing. I also have read stories on how a woman is held captive and used only to rape under different circumstances. Like I said, I felt really sad from the bottom of my heart at that moment and forget when I read the next piece of news.

I do not want to go public with the details but YES I have experienced the bad touch when I used to take public transport, then I only felt deep anger but never fear. I actually never felt scared - My grandma used to poke fun at me that I walk like an army officer about to fire at his enemy and I scare boys off :(

But something happened yesterday which showed me what fear is like, what fear is like. I can't believe I'm still getting the chills.

My locality experienced yet another breezy night yesterday. I love walking alone (I wouldn't trade that for anything or anyone in this world) especially at night with no traffic, temperature cooling off, no one looking if I'm in pajamas with no dupatta, no one judging my pace and I don't have to catch up or wait for anybody. Only me and my dream world!

I finished my chores and it was one oçlock in the night. I thought it was the perfect time to be all alone with no sounds except AC humming in different houses. I remembered how stray dogs didn't let me jog the other night in another lane, so I thought I will only have a brisk walk in my lane.

I reached the end of my lane where it joined the main road, wanted to go ahead but then I saw police patrolling and I didn't want to take a chance, I was just thinking for a moment when I saw a white car passing by. Not very good with car brands like my son, I just noticed that its not a regular car, a high-end one. As I turned back, the car also reversed into my lane and kept reversing for 3-4 blocks. I see many drivers/chauffers (you can say) in my lane - high-class folks.
I thought, he must be another driver like them but I did notice that I had never seen him here.

Now, I was walking towards the car as it got parked in front of me, he got off and was staring at me as though he was waiting for me to come. A couple of steps away, I thought, he wanted to ask for some direction but when I got near - I can't forget his face anytime sooner, the menacing look, didn't say a word but said everything with his expression.

I felt a little off the beat and asked if there was any problem. He just chuckled away (I must say, his expression and small laugh will fetch a fortune in a crime thriller), this is when I started feeling a little scared. I did not stop and continued to walk but couldn't help myself looking over my shoulder as every hair follicle on my skin was standing at its end, thinking he might strike me any moment (that's what he conveyed through his expression).

I wanted to go home but then I have to pass him. It is said, we women easily catch the negative vibes sparking from the other gender. I had to turn but I didn't want to experience that vibe again. Somehow, this woman who was gutsy till yesterday was no more. Disappeared. Spoof!

I chanted all the god names I can think of and walked past him towards my home. As I passed the car, headlights turned on and I jumped back. Mind went blank (no god names, legs didn't move, no voice to say help, just blank staring into headlights.........