Breathe through Space

  One fine morning, Siya stepped into a garden bursting with roses. The air was fragrant, and the sight of hundreds of blooming flowers felt like heaven itself. Captivated by their beauty, she decided to bring a small rose sapling home. She planted it carefully in her balcony, decorated the pot, and tended to it daily. Whenever guests came over, she would proudly say: “Look, this is my rose plant. Isn’t it beautiful?” Days passed, and soon delicate roses bloomed. Siya’s joy knew no bounds. Smiling with pride, she would repeat, “I grew this plant, I decorated it, look how beautiful it has become.” One day, her little son came near the plant. Excitedly, Siya pointed and said, “Look, dear, isn’t this flower placed so perfectly?” Her son gently picked a rose, smelled it, and replied, “Yes, Mom… the rose is beautiful. And it smells like heaven.” Dear Readers, Through this simple story lies a profound reminder: We cannot truly own what belongs to nature. We can only witness it...

  One morning, a little girl named Anaya went for a walk in the fields. On her way, she found a small basket. Curious, she picked it up and carried it along. Soon, she noticed stones scattered on the path. Without thinking, she dropped them into her basket—some small, some big. At first, it felt light. But as she kept adding more, the basket grew heavier. Her hands ached, her back bent, her face grew weary. She looked around and wondered, “Why is walking so hard for me, when others seem to walk so freely?” Exhausted, she sat under a tree. An old villager nearby smiled and said: “Child, the path was never heavy. It is only the basket you chose to fill. Leave some of those stones here—the earth is vast and can hold far more than you ever could.” Anaya slowly began placing the stones back on the ground. With each one, her basket grew lighter and her smile returned. Standing tall again, she stretched her arms and walked on—with ease this time.

 It was a quiet holiday morning when Riya, still in her pajamas, opened her wardrobe to grab something cozy. Instead of peace, a pile of clothes came crashing down. Expensive outfits—some wrinkled, some even torn from being stuffed in carelessly. This was the third time it had happened, and frustration took over. That day, Riya decided: Enough is enough. She spent hours ironing, folding, and arranging every piece neatly. By evening, her wardrobe looked calm and beautiful. But here’s the real change—Riya didn’t stop there. She built a simple habit: a few minutes each day to fold and place clothes properly. That tiny, consistent care saved her from future chaos. Dear Readers, Our relationships are no different. We ignore small things—an unspoken word, a misunderstood tone, an unresolved feeling—until they pile up and spill over in frustration. It’s not that we don’t love our people. It’s that we don’t always know how to love them consistently. And often, the real struggle isn’t...

Once, there was a mother bird with a tiny little one in her nest. Day by day, the little bird grew, watching her mother closely—how she flew away, returned with food, and cared for her with love and affection. Sheltered in her mother’s warmth, the little bird soon began to flutter her own small wings. One bright morning, filled with energy, she stretched them wide and managed to fly a little before returning to the nest. Excited, she chirped about her new adventure. Her mother hugged her with pride. Soon, she was soaring higher and higher, blooming with joy in the vast sky. But one night, everything changed. The mother bird left for her own journey, leaving the little one alone in the nest. The next morning, the young bird woke up to an empty space—no mother to greet her, no familiar comfort. Fear and loneliness wrapped around her. She cried and wondered, “What do I do now? How will I live in this world I don’t understand?” But then she remembered how her mother used to go out, find fo...