A New Year "Old" Thought

As we sat quietly in our hall—my husband and I absorbed in our reading ( me- book and he-newspaper), the kids playing with their toys and filling the room with their cheerful voices—on the evening of the 31st, with no hurry or worry about meeting anyone or rushing anywhere to bid adieu to the year 2025, my old soul felt utterly at peace.

This was a victory in itself: there was no desire to go anywhere, only to be with the ones most dear to me. We weren’t making excuses about heavy traffic or crowded places; instead, there was an inner call to pause and welcome the New Year in stillness.

This quiet awakening felt like a gentle light, brightening and lightening my inner being.

During such times, I often acknowledge one “fault” in my understanding from my upbringing: the idea that I must do something “bigger in life”. My ma always insisted that I should do something big with my life.

When I was young, I thought she meant an out-of-this-world kind of thing. Whenever my mother would say, “Do something big in life,” I would picture myself standing on a grand stage, people clapping, my name being announced, or my photograph in a newspaper. My inner desire interpreted it as “being a conqueror” or “being in front” of everyone else. I believed that “big” meant applause, recognition, and achievements that the world could see and measure.

Over time, life gently peeled away those layers of misunderstanding. With every success that felt strangely hollow, and every quiet evening that felt inexplicably full, I began to sense that my mother’s words carried a different depth. Slowly, I realised what she really meant. She meant “being bigger at heart and mind, and enriching the soul” — not just decorating the outer life.

Recently, I was upset about something “small” yet strangely unsettling, and I called her to complain. Instead of giving me solutions or sympathy alone, she calmly explained a shloka from the Bhagavad Gita:

“आत्मौपम्येन सर्वत्र समं पश्यति योऽर्जुन । सुखं वा यदि वा दु:खं स योगी परमो मत: ॥” (भगवद्गीता 6.32)

(“He who, by comparison with himself, sees the true equality of all beings in both their happiness and their distress, O Arjuna, is considered a perfect yogi.”)

She then explained, in her gentle voice, that true greatness is not about standing above others, but about expanding so much within that you can hold others’ joy and pain as your own. A Sanskrit scholar, my mother had always emphasised character, thought, and meaningful action over display and status. Her idea of doing something ‘big’ was to grow so vast in understanding, compassion, and inner strength that my presence itself could become a quiet blessing to others.

I acknowledge that my existence on this earth is all about conquering my own smallness.

So my wish for this New Year is -

My peace is my biggest victory, because being a restless soul throughout the “first” phase of my life has left me burned. Now, in this “second” phase of life, I want it to be full. Full in experience, full in joy, full in empathy, full in silence, and full in a quiet kind of glory—even if life is sending me struggle, sadness, grunt work, chaos, or shifting the limelight away from me.

I want to live in a way that feels complete from within, not just impressive from the outside. 

I surrender to nature. I surrender to my mother’s thought.

Happy New Year, Reader!!