SAAMAKSHI MEDIUM

We love the idea of the “gut feeling” That silent whisper of intuition That sacred signal from within that tells us which road to take What if it’s simply data = memories, patterns, conditioning, wrapped in the illusion of instinct. There is only this. The present choice You become deliberate, not reactive You learn to wait. To observe. To choose We don’t need certainty. We need presence Not the flutter in your stomach But the calm in your choosing. Think of a recent decision you said was based on a “gut feeling.” Ask: What did I already know that may have shaped that feeling? Was I responding, or just recognizing? But pause for a moment What if that gut feeling isn’t divine guidance It feels sacred because it arrives without explanation. But not everything inexplicable is mystical. Often, it’s just processed information our conscious mind hasn’t yet caught up with. Every feeling you call “gut” is stitched together from a million impressions you’ve gathered. Childhood pat...

What would you do if you were no longer afraid? If your bank account were full, your family cared for, your future sealed in the soft certainty of enough, what then? Would you still run? Would you wake with the same urgency? Would you check your phone within seconds, race through breakfast, and offer your peace as payment for ambition? Or would you pause? Would you remember what light feels like on your skin? Would you sit beside a window, or pick up something you left behind years ago : an old paintbrush, a poem, a dream? They say, “Do what you love.” But love is not loud. It doesn’t compete for attention. It lives in quiet corners and asks only for your presence. The problem is not that people don’t want to live meaningfully, it’s that they’re tired. Tired from running in circles that promise everything and give back so little of what matters. You hear it often: “If I had enough money, I’d do nothing.” But what they mean is:  I want to stop surviving. They long not for stillness,...

We live in a time that rewards output but forgets to value balance. We applaud hustle, not harmony. And somewhere along the way, many of us forgot how to take care of the whole human we are. We measure success by how much we produce, not how we feel. We glorify the sleepless nights, the packed calendars, the constant motion,  proof that we’re “doing something.” But in all that doing, we often stop being. Being rested. Being present. Being at peace with ourselves. We’re taught that burnout is a badge. That pushing through discomfort is noble. That if you’re not constantly achieving, you’re somehow falling behind. But no one tells us what we’re actually chasing. Or what happens when we finally “make it” and still feel empty. What about the parts of us that don’t show up on performance reviews? The tenderness in our relationships. The calm in our breath. The joy of spending a day not optimizing for anything. These are markers of a life that’s working. But we’ve learned to ignore them,...

There comes a moment, often subtle, often inconvenient, when you’re staring at an organisational chart, a power matrix, a hierarchy carved in lines and titles, and something shifts. You realise: Everyone wants respect. But not the kind that once came with titles or seating order or income brackets. Not the kind that stood on a podium and looked down. Not anymore. The hunger now is for something more elusive: A respect that feels like reverence. A presence that isn’t bought but felt. Not fear cloaked as obedience, But something softer, something kinder. And so, the question arises: Do we want respect, or do we crave control? Are we commanding reverence, or are we demanding submission? Too often, what we label as leadership is a theatre of dominance, Where voices are lowered to assert, not to listen. Where tone becomes a weapon. Where we build walls instead of bridges Because we’ve confused power with being feared. But what if we flipped the script? What if power lived in how gently we c...

We are taught early to seek fairness, as if the world runs on equal measure. Do good, and good will return. Offer kindness, and it will be returned in kind. We chase this invisible symmetry like a rhythm we’re meant to dance in, and when the beat slips, when something feels off, we call it unfair. We blame the world, or power, or systems. But sometimes the imbalance isn’t out there. It’s in what we hold back. We think fairness lives in rules, in being right, in keeping peace. But much of what we call peace is just unspoken tension. Quiet avoidance. We soften our words to be palatable. We laugh when something stings. We lower our voice when it should rise. Not because we don’t see the wrong, but because we fear what happens if we name it. We hold ourselves back. Not for their sake, but because deep down, we don’t yet trust that our truth will be met with love. When we do not trust ourselves, we look at others through that same lens. Every silence feels loaded. Every misstep, betrayal. W...

We’ve all been there. You sit down, close your eyes, and try to meditate. But the mind doesn’t listen. The list of things to do is louder than the silence you’re seeking. And slowly, guilt creeps in. You’ve heard the saints, the books, the teachers: “Meditate every morning, sit in stillness, find your center.” You want to. Truly, you do. But life isn’t always a quiet room with crossed legs. So what then? Does that mean you’ve failed at being spiritual? Let’s pause here. Isn’t the whole point of meditation to help us live better now? Not in some distant, enlightened future. Not in a Himalayan cave. But here, amid the deadlines, the mess, the unwashed dishes, the 8:15 train. Why do we imagine that inner peace must arrive through perfect routines? Why do we treat it like a destination rather than something that walks beside us every moment, waiting for us to notice? There’s an old story. Maybe you’ve heard it before. A priest, a learned Brahmin, spent his entire life in devotion. Not a si...

Let’s be honest—whenever we do something, there’s almost always an expectation attached. Even when we do something nice, somewhere in the back of our minds, we’re thinking, ‘How does this benefit me?’ Maybe it’s wanting better attention from a partner, more love, a little extra appreciation. Or at work, it could be a better position, a raise, or just wanting to be seen. Everything becomes a transaction, a silent tally of effort versus reward. But what if the whole point wasn’t about getting something back? What if the act itself was the purpose, and the outcome was already taken care of? That sounds absurd, right? Like, what’s the point of working hard if you don’t know what you’re getting? But that’s exactly the paradox. The less you obsess over the result, the more things flow in ways you never imagined. There’s an old story in the Vedas about a conversation between Krishna and Arjuna. Arjuna was stuck—afraid to take action because he didn’t want to face the consequences. He was tang...

We often talk about boundaries—how much to give, how to protect ourselves from being taken for granted. But what if, instead of shielding ourselves, we trusted love a little more? What if we allowed it to be imperfect, unguarded, and fully felt? We've been conditioned to believe that too much love makes us weak, vulnerable, easy to hurt. But maybe it’s the opposite. Maybe withholding love is what truly weakens us. When was the last time you loved someone without hesitation? Without wondering if they felt the same? Without holding back a piece of yourself, just in case? What if love was never about safety, but about surrender? What if it wasn’t about ensuring someone stays, but trusting that even if they don’t, you are still whole? Love is not meant to complete us—it is meant to remind us that we were never incomplete to begin with. It is an energy, a force that moves through us, shapes us, sometimes even breaks us, so we can grow into something truer. And yet, we spend so much time...

Ever feel like life has become a series of checkboxes, a list of tasks that never truly  mean  anything? What if I told you that spirituality isn’t about stillness—it’s about  finding stillness in motion ? It’s not about escaping life’s flow, but about  riding it , fully present, fully alive. The secret? You figure things out  only  when you decide you will. The moment you say,  I don’t know how , or insist there’s only  one  way to do something, you lock yourself in. You stop creating. You stop expanding. And before you know it, life becomes a dull loop of repetition. But look around—there are at least 500 ways to put dish soap on a sponge. If something so basic holds endless possibilities, imagine the infinite ways to approach work, love, or problem-solving. The idea that there's only  one  right way? That’s the biggest illusion of all. That’s  slavery to tools . The Illusion of Process We’ve been trained to follow. To adhere...

Once, a guy I dated asked me, "Why are you so loving? For you, it’s like your partner is the best, without fault." And I said to him, almost without thinking, "Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?" Love, to me, has always felt like the most natural thing in the world, an offering, a surrender, a way of seeing people as they truly are. But in that moment, I realised something profound: genuine love is rare, not because people don’t want it, but because they’ve forgotten how to give and receive it fully. That realization stayed with me. I began to see how many people carry wounds from childhood, from relationships, from the world itself, wounds that make them cautious, skeptical, guarded. Not everyone grows up in a home where love is expressed freely, where warmth is a given. Some have never known what it means to be held without reason, to be accepted without conditions. And so, they hesitate, they measure, they hold back, afraid to give because they have learned that...

I get a toffee for my daughter, and for her, it’s the most magical surprise. Her eyes light up, she giggles, and wraps her tiny arms around me in a hug that speaks volumes. There is wonder in the way she finds her missing eraser and laughs as if it were a grand adventure. She holds a tiny vegetable bug fearlessly, letting it walk on her finger, while I take a step back.  Before leaving for school, she bends down to give the plants a goodbye kiss, and when a tiny bud appears, she celebrates as if she had whispered life into existence. I see her chatting with our beta fish, asking if he feels lonely and if he wants to play. She climbs up the window, eyes shining, peering at the pigeon eggs, excitedly narrating their journey from shell to sky. She finds a simple rock on the sidewalk and proclaims it the most unique treasure she's ever seen. Children are already in the dance of life, twirling, skipping, and embracing the beauty of the ordinary. Their hearts beat in rhythm with the univ...

We say we want the truth, but do we? When we ask someone to tell us the truth, we are only hearing their version—what they’ve seen, how they’ve felt, the way they’ve processed reality through their own mind. And yet, we argue over it, as if truth were something solid, something universal. But it’s not. It never has been. The Illusion of Reality Think about a conversation—any conversation. Two people sit across from each other, talking, listening, but are they really hearing the same thing? No two people see the world the same way. One sees chaos where the other sees opportunity. One hears criticism where another hears care. Every exchange is a reflection of the speaker’s mind, their experiences, their past. So are we ever really connecting? Or are we just syncing up with someone’s personal brand of imagination? We don’t find people we understand—we find people whose illusions match ours. Relationships, friendships, even fleeting connections happen not because we’ve discovered some gran...

Today, I did something brave. A friend’s behavior made me uncomfortable. It wasn’t something dramatic—just one of those moments that doesn’t sit right, but you can’t quite put your finger on why. I tried to push it to the back of my mind, but it kept resurfacing, dragging along a mess of weird thoughts and uneasy feelings. I did all the "right" things—meditated, cleansed my energy, tried to let it go. But nope, it kept nudging at me like an untied shoelace you can’t ignore. I could have ranted to my husband or vented to another friend. Easy choice, right? Just let it all out, get some validation, and feel momentarily better. But deep down, I knew that would only fan the fire. So instead, I did something different. I picked up the phone and called my friend. I told her, “Hey, something doesn’t feel right about what happened. I don’t know if I’m overthinking it, and maybe I’m being silly, but I’d rather talk to you directly than sit with this feeling.” And just like that, somet...

As we grow up, we learn independence. We learn to overcome emotions, to drill strength and vitality into our system. We are taught to shut off any thought or feeling that drives volatile emotions or expectations because we must get on with life, work, and fulfill our goals. In doing so, we often lose the ability to notice the beauty of existence itself—the way a tiny bird chirps at the window, the fleeting bloom of a flower, or the radiant smile of a child when given a goodbye hug before work. We have consumed our minds with planning, scheduling, and to-do lists. Our bodies have adapted to the notion that if we are not constantly doing something deemed "productive," then we are wasting time. Productivity, a term we have redefined to mean only external results, has become a relentless corporate world in our heads. When tension rises, we long to halt everything, to take a break, to calm our minds. Yet, even when we find that rare moment to pause—perhaps by falling into our part...

Have you ever craved love so deeply that it ached inside you? Or longed for appreciation, hoping someone would finally see you for all that you are? We chase these things, reaching out with open hands, waiting for them to fall into our palms like gifts from the universe. But life doesn’t work that way. What we desire, we must first become. If you want love, give love. If you wish to be appreciated, shower appreciation onto others. If you want to be cared for, nurture someone with your heart wide open—not just in grand gestures, but in the small, quiet ways that truly matter. If you want to be trusted, be a steady presence. If you want romance, embody warmth, softness, and kindness. Life is not a list of transactions. It’s a rhythm, an energy, a cycle that loops back to you. The more you give, the more you create a world that reflects that same energy. You are not waiting for something outside of you; you are the starting point. Noticing the Little Things We get lost in the chase, don’t...