Subash.M | Assistant Professor

2025 felt like a dream beautiful at times, painful at times, but deeply real. When I look back, I don’t see just days and months I see lessons, faces, moments, and silent battles that shaped me. This year taught me more than any book ever could. Learning, however, came with a cost. I paid a lot emotionally, mentally, and sometimes silently from people I trusted, from situations I didn’t expect, and from hopes that didn’t stay long enough. Yet, I do not regret it. I thank the universe not for only giving me happiness, but for giving me understanding. I won’t pray with long requests, because you already know me well. You know what should stay with me and what should quietly leave. You know what strengthens me and what weakens me. With a smile, I accept your decisions. Gratitude fills my heart not because everything went right, but because everything made sense in the end. You gave me moments of joy, and you took some away. You gave me wounds, and you also gave me time the most powerful h...

There are moments in life when the mind feels cluttered not with problems alone, but with questions that have no clear answers. During such times, I have often heard people say, “Travel heals.” Yesterday, I didn’t just hear it I lived it. Travel is not merely about changing locations. It is about changing lenses. When we move away from our routine spaces, something within us loosens its grip. The mind begins to breathe. The heart becomes receptive. Travel, I believe, recharges us not by giving answers, but by reshaping how we look at life. My recent journey to the Guruvayur Temple in Kerala was one such quiet teacher. The temple visit itself was serene, but the real lesson came not from the sanctum or scriptures it came from the road. On my return, my bike suddenly got stuck. No heroic breakdown, no dramatic smoke just enough trouble to make me stand helplessly, staring at the machine as if it would suddenly feel guilty and start on its own. It didn’t. I tried all the expert techniques...

After a long pause, I return to writing not out of urgency, but out of stillness. Today’s blog is born from my solitude. The word solitary often carries a weight of misunderstanding many see it as emptiness, withdrawal, or loneliness. But what I experienced today was none of that. It was, in fact, a quiet kind of bliss. This evening unfolded gently. I was seated by the window of a bus, a familiar route yet somehow new. A favourite song played softly through my earphones not loud enough to escape into the world, but just enough to fill my inner space. The bus moved steadily, as if it knew there was no hurry. Outside, the evening air brushed past, cool and forgiving, carrying with it the scent of routine life tea stalls, tired streets, and people heading home with stories of their own. In that moment, I realised how rare it has become to simply be. No anxiety about what tomorrow demands, no replay of yesterday’s mistakes. No expectations either from myself or from others. Just presence. ...