That’s what a close friend of mine would often say.
She’s someone I admire — emotionally articulate, deeply sincere, and always willing to share what’s alive for her.
No masks. No games. Just raw, unfiltered truth.

But sometimes when she spoke, my mind would wander. One day she confronted me with irritation —
“Are you really listening? I feel like you’re not with me…”

I felt caught but somehow found the courage to speak my truth:
“You’re right — I wasn’t listening. And it’s not the first time that my attention has drifted when you talk. It’s not because I don’t care or I’m disinterested in you.”… Read more

Not all violence is loud. Sometimes, 𝘄𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗹𝘆 — through silence, through stories, through the loss of wonder. We do it politely. Quietly. Convincingly. And without a trace of malice.

It doesn’t look like hatred or cruelty.
It looks like silent withdrawal.
It sounds like “I expected better.”
It hides behind phrases like “they’re not who I thought they were.”

I know this because I’ve done it.

There was a friend I deeply admired — someone who felt like a compass for how I wanted to show up in the world.
Wise. Articulate. Emotionally present.

But one day, in a moment of stress, they spoke to me with sharpness.… Read more

A few months ago, my 15-year-old walked up to me and said,
“𝗠𝗼𝗺, 𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘄 𝘂𝗽 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗮 𝗺𝗮𝗻.”

The therapist in me was hypervigilant.
“Well, you don’t have to grow up to be a man, darling — you can grow up to be whatever gender you like.”

He snapped. “What nonsense are you talking, Mom? I’m born a boy, so I have to grow up to be a man.”

I cleared my throat. “You’re born a boy — that’s your physical sex. But your gender, you can choose — that’s a social construct”

Now he was irritated.… Read more

I’ve always been a relationship-oriented person.
For years, I poured myself into holding people together — resolving conflicts, explaining myself, bending backwards so no one felt left out.

It worked. People liked me.
But behind the goodwill, I often felt exhausted. Resentful of the emotional labor.

One friendship stands out.
Every rupture, the same cycle:
• I’d chase.
• We’d talk for hours.
• I’d clarify, explain, try to understand.
• We’d hug at the end.

But looking at my watch, I felt troubled by how much time it took just to return to baseline. By the end, 𝗜 𝗳𝗲𝗹𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻’𝘁 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿.… Read more

Me: “You remind me of my childhood crush, pup.”
My son: “Ooh lala lala! Tell me who?”
Me: “Mowgli from Jungle Book.”
Adi: “What? Why? Is that even a compliment?”
Me: “Obviously not! Look at your hair, boy. I can barely see your face. Can you please cut your hair for God’s sake?”

My boy just went back to his books.
Me: “Adi, are you even listening?”
Adi: “Of course I’m listening. I’m just choosing not to obey you.”

That line stopped me in my tracks.

Growing up in a lower-middle-class Hindu household, I had learnt that if you were listening, you followed.… Read more

For years, I confused love with sacrifice.
I stayed in relationships where I gave more than I had, and left feeling drained. I thought devotion meant 𝗽𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗹𝘆 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗺𝘆 𝗯𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗲𝘁, 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝘁 𝗿𝗮𝗻 𝗱𝗿𝘆. I believed disappearing into someone else’s needs was proof of care.

But slowly I learned: love that empties you is not love.
The true litmus test of love is simple—does it enlarge life, or does it diminish it?

I’ve learned to recognise love by five signs:

🔹 Freedom over Control
Love doesn’t trap people in roles that suit us. It gives them room to unfold, even when their unfolding unsettles us.… Read more

A client recently told me:
“When it’s bad, I swear I’ll leave. But then he does something really small – brings me tea, laughs with me, touches my hand – and suddenly the storm disappears. I feel alive again. How do I walk away from that?”

From the outside, people ask: “Why don’t you just leave?”
But anyone who has lived it knows: it’s not that simple.
Because when it’s good, 𝗶𝘁’𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 — and that’s what keeps you bound.

Psychodynamically, this is 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗰𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 — the same cycle that keeps gamblers at slot machines. You endure the lows because you’re waiting for the jackpot of affection, the fleeting intimacy that feels like oxygen.… Read more

Conflict visited our group this week.

A brown participant spoke first:
“I feel like a broken record,” she said. “English is the only language I can speak in. I’ve lost the cultural richness that shaped me.”

Moments later, a white woman began to cry.
“I also feel like a broken record,” she said. “The world feels so polarised. I don’t know what it means to be a good white person anymore.” The group instinctively moved to comfort her.

The brown woman’s expression hardened:
“See? White tears always get empathy. Our rage never does. I am f****ng angry with the group right now”.… Read more

A few weeks ago, I was coaching the Managing Director of a large company. He reflected, “I don’t understand. I’ve built this place on trust and care. I’ve supported my people through every crisis. But now I feel frustrated. I can’t step away without something breaking.”

As he spoke, I remembered something he’d once shared — how the men in his family held power by being loud, intimidating, always right. He had promised himself he’d be different. He’d lead through empathy, not fear.

And he had. People called him kind, available, humane. But as he spoke, I could feel the same structure in a new tone — everything still orbiting around him.… Read more

Our story didn’t begin with a shared vision.
It began with a misunderstanding.

We had met online to discuss an article we were co-authoring.
One of us (Anisha) had just come from a conversation with an American client where she experienced microaggression and micro-insult around her racial identity.
She entered the call still stirred by that encounter.

The other (Giles) listened with care, offered empathy, and then—perhaps too soon—wondered aloud whether the intent had really been racial.

That moment could have been the end of the conversation.
But instead, it became the beginning of something deeper.
What followed wasn’t smooth—it was alive.… Read more