Finding clarity in the blur: ‘Maybe life is meant to be a little out of focus, a little unknowable’

I think of my friend Anandita De, whose birthday just passed a couple of days ago. I think of how bold and daring she is—her journey of self-fulfilment, her journey of weight loss and well-being, her journey of disciplined exercising to heal mind, body, and soul. It’s a journey of triumph, a journey of self-discovery, a journey of self-healing, a journey of self-realisation. It’s a journey of discipline. It’s a journey of being solitary and alone. It’s a journey where people taunt, where people challenge, where people make fun—not because they believe what she’s doing is wrong, but because they’re jealous. They feel incomplete. They feel lesser. And the only thing they know how to do is taunt, hurt, question, ridicule her gallant journey ahead.

But she moves forward. She moves through the ridicule, through the noise, through the heavy fog of expectations, the cruel echoes of those who do not understand the quiet war she fights each day. She walks. One foot in front of the other, hour after hour, morning and night, forging a path only she can see. Not just to reshape her body, but to rebuild herself. To shed not just weight, but the weight of doubt, the weight of mockery, the weight of being told she is anything less than magnificent. She carries herself with a searing deep focus, an unshakeable resolve, and an unrelenting belief that she is enough. That she has always been enough.

And what is most extraordinary about her journey is that it is not just hers. The discipline, the self-control, the commitment she has for herself—it does not remain within her. It radiates outward, feeding others, healing others, inspiring others. I see it happen in real-time. Every time I tag her in a story, every time I share a glimpse of her daily walk, her discipline, her resolve, I get messages. Strangers, friends, acquaintances—people from all walks of life—write to me, awed by her. They tell me they are amazed by her dedication. That they are inspired by her strength. That she gives them hope.

Her journey, in its quiet and steadfast nature, has become a beacon for others who find themselves lost, broken, uncertain of their own path. And isn’t that the most powerful thing? That by healing herself, she is healing others. That by showing up for herself every day, she is giving others the courage to do the same. That by refusing to let the world break her, she is helping others piece themselves back together.

And isn’t that what we must all do? When the world demands that we be something else—something smaller, something quieter, something more palatable to their tastes—we must turn inward. We must remind ourselves that we are not here to fit into the shapes others carve for us. We are not clay for their moulding. We are not notes in a song they compose. We are the architects of our own being. The moment we seek approval, the moment we stretch ourselves into versions of who we think the world will accept, we fracture. We lose pieces of ourselves, scattered like breadcrumbs along a path that leads to nowhere.

We are taught, from the moment we can understand words, to look outward for meaning. To seek validation from the world. To measure our worth in applause, in likes, in trophies, in the nods of approval from those we deem important. We learn to define ourselves by the reflections we see in other people’s eyes. But the minute we look out, we are broken. We are at the mercy of a world that does not know us the way we know ourselves. A world that shifts and changes and never holds still long enough for us to grasp. A world that hands out worth in fleeting moments and snatches it away without warning.

Inside us, however—inside, in the deepest sanctum of our being, in the home of our soul—there is something unshakeable. Something constant. A quiet, knowing presence that has been with us since the beginning, waiting for us to turn inward, to listen, to trust. It is the place we retreat to when we are profoundly happy, when we are deeply broken, when we are lost, when we are found. It is where the answers lie—not the easy answers, not the quick fixes, but the truths that take root deep within us and bloom in their own time.

And that is exactly what Ana has done. She has looked inward. With resilience, with a searing deep focus, with her indefatigable commitment to reaching the goal she has set for herself, cutting out the noise from a world that is often mean without reason. She is an example—a living, breathing, ticking, exercising, being-a-friend example of how we must look in when the world tries to break us up, when it tries to break us by making us into things we are not meant to be. When the world tells us we are not enough, Ana reminds us—by simply being—that we are more than enough.

This is life-loving living. It is not about perfection. It is not about having it all figured out. It is about waking up each day and choosing, again and again, to turn inward instead of outward. To find joy in the smallest moments—the warmth of the sun on our skin, the scent of cardamom blooming in a pot of tea, the laughter of a loved one echoing through a quiet room. It is about embracing the mess, the uncertainty, the imperfection of it all, and knowing, deep in our bones, that it is enough.

The minute you look out, you are broken. But the moment you look in, you are whole. You are home. You are alive. And oh, how lucky you are.