We leave places behind, but pieces of them keep travelling with us ….
Category: Roksana Tales
Stories Along the Path
Toruna walks almost every day with her son. These walks are special for her, a time to breathe, notice, and listen to the stories unfolding around. Every face, every moment on the street seems to whisper something to her heart. Walking makes her more thoughtful, more aware of life’s small wonders and struggles …
One evening, on their way to the park, Toruna noticed a tiny woollen cap lying on the road. She stopped and told her son, ‘Maybe a mother was carrying her sleeping baby on her shoulder, and while walking home, the little cap slipped off without her noticing. And then when she reached home and saw it missing, she must have felt sad, that cute little cap of her dear child is lost!’ Her son smiled and said, ‘You’re such a storyteller, Mom.’
They both laughed and kept walking.
But Toruna’s eyes continued to wander, always finding small stories hidden in everyday life …
Near the park gate, she saw twin toddlers quarreling over lollipops, their mother watching with an amused smile. One of the twins looked a bit grumpier, & Toruna observed the mother gently scolding and laughing at the same time ….
A few steps ahead, a woman in niqab (a veil on her face) walked alone on the footpath.
She seemed quiet, almost wrapped in her own thoughts. Perhaps she was returning from a long day at work, thinking about bills, groceries, and what to cook for dinner.
Her steps were slow, her shoulders slightly bent, as if she was carrying more than just the weight of her bag. There was a sadness about her, the kind that comes when life feels heavy but must still move on. Watching her, Toruna remembered that she would be going for Umrah soon, and wondered if she might wear a niqab then too. The thought lingered as she walked on …
Near the park bench, Toruna saw a dead butterfly, its wings still beautiful, though still. She picked it up gently and showed it to her son who looked at it with curiosity, helped her to put it on the height of the side wall!
As they were walking, Toruna observed that two elderly men walked slowly side by side, leaning on their canes and talking as if the world belonged to only them. Their laughter carried softly in the air. Toruna thought about how friendship, even in old age, keeps the heart alive, how sharing stories can make time feel lighter … she wondered what might be the topics of their laughter!
Then, not far from them, a young girl crouched near the edge of the grass, feeding milk and biscuits to a few stray cats. The cats purred and brushed against her legs. Her sweet smile warmed Toruna’s heart, a small act of kindness in a noisy world …
A little further ahead, a young mother struggled with her two small children, one crying, the other running away. Toruna smiled at this sight of this young mother, remembering her own early days of motherhood. How young she had been, and ever since then, how her children had become her entire universe …
She and her son walked side by side, sometimes talking, sometimes silent. These walks had become their little ritual, good for both their minds and hearts …
That evening, they noticed a young boy walking slowly around the park. He looked a bit overweight and tired. Toruna said, ‘I’ve been watching that boy for a while.’ Her son nodded, ‘Yes, he comes here often. I’ve seen him too.’ Toruna felt a sadness for him. ‘I hope he feels better soon,” she said, ‘Life gives everyone some struggle that other people can never understand’ ….
As the sun began to fade, they left the park, stopping by the nearby general store to buy a few things before heading home. Toruna smiled to herself, ‘Tomorrow we’ll come again,” she thought, and surely, the path would have more stories waiting to be found …
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Have you ever wondered, how many stories pass by us each day, unnoticed?
Freedom from FOMO
She no longer fears missing out, for she has learned that what’s meant for her will never pass her by. While the world rushes to chase trends, gatherings, and noise, she finds peace in her own rhythm. Her joy isn’t borrowed from what others are doing, but born from the satisfaction of being present where she is …
She doesn’t measure her life against anyone’s timeline. She knows that every soul blooms in its own season. She would rather miss a hundred fleeting moments than lose the one that truly belongs to her …
For her, the real richness lies not in being everywhere, but in being whole, right where she stands …
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When was the last time you felt at peace simply by being where you are?
Behind her Sunglasses
She has always loved wearing sunglasses …
As a teenager, she would watch her sisters tilt their faces toward the light, their lashes casting long shadows over eyes that shimmered with beauty. When she looked in the mirror, her own eyes seemed smaller, plainer, framed by short lashes. It stung her heart a little, like a tiny splinter she couldn’t quite pull out …
Over time, she began to reclaim them. She traced deep kajol along her lids, soft & dark, like ink drawing a doorway. Her eyes lookd wider, more alive. People began to say she looked striking, and for the first time, her eyes felt truly hers …
Then life changed. Grief came quietly, like water filling a low space. In her reflection, she noticed it, the sparkle that once danced in her eyes had turned gentler, dimmer, like smoke fading after a flame. Her eyes began to carry stories of long nights and silent endurance. She didn’t always want others to read them …
So she reached for her sunglasses. The cool plastic rested against her temples, the tinted lenses washed the world in sepia. It felt like drawing a curtain over a window. Behind them, she had privacy. No one could see the sadness flicker and ask, “Are you okay?” …
She’s learned something through this little ritual, and that is, sometimes covering up isn’t vanity; it’s survival. The layers we wear, sunglasses, kajol, even a careful smile, are small stitches tht hold us togther until we’re ready to heal …
Sometimes, she still wonders: what would it feel like to step into the light barefaced, to let her eyes tell their truth, and to trust the world not to look away?
Her eyes carry stories the world is not
yet ready to read
I♥️
Turona’s Mountain
There was a small village at the foot of a mountain. The village was called Shantipur. In that village lived a little girl named Turona. Every day, Turona would gaze at the big mountain from afar. In the morning, the mountain sparkled in golden sunlight, and by evening, it glowed in a soft reddish hue …
One day, Turona decided she would climb to the top of that mountain. Everyone said, ‘It’s too high, you won’t be able to.’ But Turona smiled and replied, ‘How will I know if I don’t try?’ …
The next morning, she set off with a bottle of water, some fruit, and a notebook. On the way, she grew tired, her feet ached on the stones, yet she didn’t stop. Sometimes she sat down to rest, listening to the sound of the wind and watching the birds fly …
Finally, after noon, she reached the top of the mountain. Looking down, she saw how beautiful her little village was, green fields, tiny houses, and a silver river flowing gently through it …
In her notebook, Turona wrote, ‘The joy of reaching the highest place only comes when you refuse to give up.’ …
Then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The air smelled of freedom, and inside her heart, there was peace …
She realized that the real mountain wasn’t outside, but within her. And that day, she had conquered both …
How we used to write short stories when we were young! I remember how every night I’d make up stories to tell my little sisters before they fell asleep. I used to jot down bits of them in my notebook too. Often, I’d go up to our rooftop with that notebook, gazing at the distant sky until my thoughts drifted away. I wanted to write, and sometimes, I did. Other times, I simply got lost in my own imagination!
I’m sure it happened with you too!
Anyways, now tell me,
What is the ‘mountain’ in your own life that you’ve been afraid to climb?
Or tell me,
When was the last time you tried something even though others doubted you?
The Luxury of Wanting Less
For the past two months, I’ve been wearing just two simple kameez sets, paired with the same sandals and one trusty bag, wherever I go. Except for a few occasions, this has been my beautiful routine. The colours of the dresses have softened with time, and the sandals even needed a small repair once. Yet somehow, that has only made them feel more alive, more mine, as if they carry the reflective story of my days within their fading threads …
This small choice has brought a surprising calm into my life. I no longer stand before my wardrobe wondering what to wear or how to appear. There’s less noise in my mind, fewer decisions to make. Simplicity has become a rhythm of peace, an invitation to slow down and live with intention. Life, I’ve found, feels calmer when there is less clutter …
In this space of simplicity, I began noticing how much I already have, how many clothes once sat untouched, how often I’ve taken the luxury of choice for granted. Wearing the same things again and again opened a subtle sense of gratitude. I realised how privileged I’ve been: to have more than I need, to be able to choose …
That realisation inspired another small but meaningful shift. Whenever I felt the urge to buy something new, I started setting a portion of that amount aside, for charity, or for something genuinely important. What once might have gone toward another purchase now flows toward purpose. Each act of restraint has become an act of giving. Truly, fulfilment lies not in acquisition, but in redirection …
These small choices have grounded me deeply. They’ve taught me that contentment doesn’t come from adding more, but from cherishing what already exists and letting it serve its purpose fully. Even as the fabric fades and the edges of my sandals wear thin, I certainly know a richness that has nothing to do with possessions …
It has now been over a year since I last bought clothes for myself. And yet, this restraint feels like abundance. There’s something profoundly beautiful about learning to want less, about realising that simplicity itself can be a beautiful form of luxury, one that dresses the spirit far more gracefully than anything we could ever wear …
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What might shift in your life if you began to embrace a little less, and notice a little more?
A Story of a Keepsake
Little treasures rest
Whispers of time in my hand
Treasures never fade …
An entry ticket to the Sherlock Holmes Museum on Baker Street with my little sister in London. It was a bright and sunny day, and we had such a wonderful experience exploring the museum. Walking through the rooms, seeing the famous detective’s study, and imagining the stories felt magical. This little ticket is now a cherished memory of laughter, curiosity, and a special day spent together …
Life’s simple joys are all around; they only need your attention and appreciation to become cherished memories …
I♥️
Musings
Even in your uncertainty, you’re brave, you’re trying, and you’re already enough …
No Chase Outshines This Moment
Slow down and come home to yourself, this moment, your life, is already rich with blessings and beauty that no chase can ever outshine …
What does ‘home’ feel liek to you wthin your own heart?
Wonder
I am made to notice the world in all its color, light, and wonder, to gasp at butterflies, scent flowers, and follow what stirs my joy …
To force me to ignore it is to ask my very heart to break, for I’m curved to hold love, beauty, and life fully …
What would you see if you let yourself notice the world as fully as you were made to?
A Strong Woman
A strong woman
rises silently when the world expects her to fall
knows her worth without apology …
blooms in her own time …
invites love not to tame her but to accept her fully, unapologetic, unstoppable, and unafraid to embrace her …
Musing
One day at a time!
It sounds simple, almost too slow for this fast world. But when life humbles you, or pain stays long, you learn it’s not weakness, it’s wisdom …
Many won’t understand until survival becomes sacred, or until plans become hours, and peace is found in small steps …
Only then, suddenly, one day feels like a victory!
Ikigai
In a world that pulls you in every direction, protect your peace, honour your pace, and remember: the way you treat yourself shapes everything …
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Ikigai (生き甲斐 – Japanese)
A reason for being; what gives life meaning
Soru
Keep asking, not because you doubt everything, but because that’s how you grow, lead, and stay true to yourself …
Soru (Turkish)
Question, simple and bold
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What if the question is the answer? Just asking YOU
Presence
Sometimes, the kindest thing in the world is
A friend who sits beside our sorrow
Not asking it to leave
But making space for it to breathe …
I♥️
A Journey to the Himalayas
What are your future travel plans?
I have a deep wish to travel to Tibet someday, and also again and again, explore the areas in and around the Himalayas. There’s something about those mountains, their silence, their vastness, that calls to me in a very personal way …
I don’t just want to visit as a tourist; I dream of living in a quiet Himalayan valley for a while, among the locals, embracing the pace and peace of that life. I feel like I’ll take the silence from nature and the strength from the mountains to keep writing all my thoughts. And in that stillness, I know I’ll paint too, letting the changing light, the prayer flags, the rivers and skies guide my brush. Creating art in that sacred landscape feels like a return to something essential …
The Himalayas feel like more than just a destination, they feel like a kind of home I wish to reach again and again. So yes, they are definitely in my future travel plans, hopefully sooner than later …
When a Song Remembers Her
If someone listens to a song
And she appears in the verse
Not summoned, not expected
Just felt, like a breeze through a half-open window
Then that is love in its gentlest form …
Not loud, not declared
But tucked between notes
Where memory breathes, and the heart still knows
What it never forgot …
And if they play it again
Not to relive the past
But to feel her near
Just once more …
Alas, the song fades!
But somewhere in its echo
lives a moment
They never said goodbye to …
I was listening to a song when a sudden thought settled in, if someone ever hears a song and thinks of me, isn’t that one of the most deeply emotional and sacred gestures?
That moment stayed with me, and I ended up writing ‘When a Song Remembers Her’ … It doesn’t follow any structure or rhyme, but it holds something personal, love, memory, longing …
Maybe it’s a poem. Maybe it’s just a feeling shaped into words. I’m not entirely sure …
But I wonder, what do you think, can something like this be called a poem? Or does a poem need rules to be real, or can it simply be a moment that moves us?
Also, I’m just wondering about you, have you ever heard a song and found someone gently returning to your heart through it?
Tell me,
Isn’t it beautiful how music remembers what we try to forget?
I♥️
Between Valleys and Dreams
When R stepped off the small plane that landed in Paro, Bhutan, she felt something shift, not dramatically, but like the settling of dust after a long journey …
The valley stretched wide beneath her, green and golden in patches, framed by distant, unmoving mountains. It was quieter than she expected. Even the wind seemed to move gently, as though not to disturb the stillness that held this place together …
She had arrived not as a tourist, but as a teacher, a woman in her late thirties from Bangladesh, with a degree in English and a quiet but persistent belief in meaningful work. Years ago, it had been just a passing dream, one that took root on a monsoon evening back home, when her father handed her a book after returning from a short business trip to Bhutan: Married to Bhutan by Linda Leaming. She didn’t know then that the book would become more than a gift. It would become a roadmap …
She read it in one sitting, and then again, slower. The words painted a life far from the chaos she knew: one of rhythm, simplicity, joy without extravagance. Something about it stirred her. Not just the country itself, but the idea that a person could choose a gentler life, one rooted in intention. Ever since, the desire to live and work in Bhutan stayed with her, not loudly, but like a thread running through her decisions, pulling her quietly in one direction …
It took years to make it happen. Teaching jobs weren’t easy to come by. There were rejections, delays, moments of self-doubt. But eventually, things aligned. A school in Paro welcomed her. And so she came, with a suitcase full of essentials and a heart full of the unknown …
The school was modest: a few classrooms, basic supplies, and a staff of deeply committed educators. Her students were bright-eyed and curious, some from the surrounding hills, others from the valley towns. They called her Miss R with respect and affection. She taught English, but often, she felt she was learning more than she was giving …
In Paro, life had a slower pulse. Mornings began with mist hanging low over the rice fields. The walk to school was lined with prayer flags and the occasional passing cow. She started wearing the kira on school days, awkwardly at first, then with growing comfort. Suja, salted butter tea, became something she reached for on chilly afternoons …
She missed home sometimes: the sound of the call to prayer, her mother’s cooking, the overlapping laughter of cousins. But Bhutan had offered her something she hadn’t expected, a deep and gentle space to grow. Here, her work felt rooted. Each lesson she planned, each conversation with a student, each moment of solitude looking out at the hills, it all added up to a life that felt fuller, simpler, and strangely her own …
Some evenings, when the rain returned and wrapped the mountains in silver, she would pull out the old book her father had given her. The pages were worn now, the cover faded. But the feeling it gave her, that tug toward a life of simplicity and purpose, still felt as clear as it did all those years ago …
Living in Bhutan hadn’t made her someone new. It had returned her to someone she had always hoped to be: grounded, purposeful, and joyful. She wasn’t searching anymore. She was, finally, living the life she had once only read about …
She is here …
Teaching …
Living near the mountain valleys she once only imagined …
And in doing so, she has become a part of a beautiful story …
And at the end of each day, amidst mountain valleys, in the hush of Paro’s twilight, that felt like enough …
Bhutan has a sacred place in my heart. I visited once, and it felt like stepping into a world where everything slows down. Peace seemed to rise gently with the mountains …
I remember the kind people, the prayer flags fluttering in the wind, and the quiet beauty of the dzongs. Everything left a deep impression on me …
Rafting was one of the most exciting parts, unexpectedly wild, joyful, and full of laughter. That whole trip was truly an adventure I’ll never forget …
Before leaving, I bought the book Married to Bhutan from Paro International Airport. After reading it, something in me shifted. It changed the way I see life, more simply, more mindfully, and with a greater sense of purpose
I hope to return to Bhutan again and again
Musing
Out of life’s deepest tragedies often rise the wisest truths : pain becomes the teacher, and time, the witness …
Dust
People keep asking, ‘How broken are you? Should we try to fix you?’
But someone please tell them you can only fix what’s in pieces …
I’ve been crushed so finely, I’ve turned to dust
Silent Moves
Build, love, and strive in silence. Then arrive with grace, not noise; after all, why reveal your next move when the final one will speak for itself!
Are you guarding your vision or giving it away too soon?
Reflect and focus on your vision …
Solace
Dear Me,
I know you’ve been holding a lot lately, not just in your hands, but in your heart. You care so deeply, and it shows in all the little ways you’re trying to help, to listen, to stay steady. I see how much thought you’re putting into what might ease someone else’s pain, how to show up not just with love, but with wisdom …
You may never have the perfect words or solutions, and that’s okay. It’s not about fixing everything. It’s about being there, consistently, quietly, with care. That kind of presence does matter. That kind of love is enough …
It’s also okay to feel tired sometimes. To question if you’re doing enough. To wonder if your efforts are really helping. Just remember: your intentions are rooted in love, and love is never wasted. Rest when you need to. Trust that showing up with honesty and patience is a healing act in itself …
Keep going gently. You’re doing better than you think …
With kindness,
Myself
I♥️
The Grace in Falling Apart
Even on the days when your strength slips away and your heart feels too heavy to carry, know this, it’s okay to rest, to feel, to fall apart, because your worth was never measured by how well you pretend to be okay …
Villimalé
After arriving in Malé, my son and I took a short ride across the water on a cheerful little troller and arrived at Villimalé, a quaint residential island just a breath away from the city, yet carrying a world of its own. We really loved it from our first glance
At Malahini Resort, we met quite a few Bangladeshi brothers. One of them was Anwar, from Cumilla. He would often talk to us and check in to see how we were doing. The day before we were to leave the resort, he found out that we’d be spending a day in the capital, Malé. That’s when he suggested, ‘You should visit Villimalé (Villingili). It’s really beautiful, peaceful beaches, and you’ll get a glimpse of how the locals live by the sea.’
My son and I decided to follow Anwar’s suggestion. And that’s how after arriving in Malé, we took a little time to check in and freshen up at the hotel and then set off for Villingili
Vilimalé greeted us like an old friend, quiet, colorful, and full of life in the most unassuming ways. We arrived in the afternoon, when the sun had begun to soften and the island was slowly waking up from its midday rest. We strolled along the beach, letting the rhythm of the waves guide us, and quickly realized that this wasn’t just a place, it was a gentle rhythm of living.
Everywhere we looked, there were tiny glimpses of humanity, sweet nothings, really, but the kind that make a place unforgettable. We saw two youngsters sitting on a swing, lost in deep conversation, as if the world around them had vanished. Just a little further down, two elderly citizens mirrored the same scene, also on a swing, equally absorbed in their own quiet exchange. It struck me how conversation, across generations, had found its sacred space here
The island had spaces carved out for everyone. Recreational areas were sprinkled thoughtfully across the land, inviting both the young and old to step out, breathe, and belong. As the sun began its descent, we saw more and more people emerging from their homes, children playing, families gathering near the shore, neighbors leaning against colorful walls exchanging daily stories. There was a profound simplicity in it all, a culture of connection, held together by time, tradition, and tide
One thing I adored was the palette of colors, houses in hues of blue, pink, and green added a joyful softness to the streets. Local buses trundled along quietly, connecting corners of the island, making life easier not just for tourists like us, but for the people who called this place home
At one point, I stopped by a humble juice stall and, with a bit of curiosity, asked the shopkeeper if he had any old coins to exchange for my Maldivian rufiyaa. To my surprise, he smiled warmly, searched through his collection, and found some for me. It wasn’t just a kind gesture, it felt like a small act of honor, a way of saying we see you, and we care. That exchange stayed with me; you know, respect can live in even the smallest interactions
Vilimalé may be a little island, but it left a great impression on us
True that beauty lives not just in landscapes or luxury, but in everyday warmth, in shared swings and sunset talks, and in the quiet magic of simply being present, with a place, and with someone you love
If you ever visit the Maldives, don’t forget to stop by the little island of Vilimalé. Whether you’re there for a stroll, a swim, or simply to slow down, Villimalé feels like a hidden corner of everyday island life
Unexpressed
Luz
Light pours in like a gentle guest
She stands where warmth meets wonder
Paint in her hand, soft power in her stance
The table glows with quiet intention
Each colour catching a piece of the day …
Luz
Spanish for ‘light’ ….
I♥️
Mindful Drawing Moments by Jian Bird Creates
It’s so satisfying to host sessions like Mindful Drawing Moments’ – what began on a quiet day with a simple act of curiosity. I invited a few willing souls to join me in the pattern artworks I usually create to calm my mind and return to myself. One participant became two, and slowly, word spread. That’s how ‘Mindful Drawing Moments’ was born: gently, organically, like something blooming in its own time …
Since then, these sessions have become spaces where self-help and creativity meet. Through themes like Kaizen, Kintsugi, Manifestation, Self-Love, and Mindfulness, each gathering offers more than just art, it becomes a mirror, a soft release, a shared breath …
Our recent sessions, themed ‘Let Go and Let Bloom,’ invited participants to reflect through drawing wildflowers, free, untamed, purposeful. Dried flowers from my mother’s garden were placed on the table, not just for beauty, but as a quiet symbol: that even after loss or struggle, something fragile and meaningful can still remain …
The way the participants picked up color, poured their thoughts into shapes, and shared reflections was deeply moving. There was no pressure to be an artist, only an invitation to be present …
We began with simple prompts, one that echoed was: ‘Never mind what they’.
Almost all said: ‘think’.
And so the letting go began …
From releasing judgment to choosing kindness, from holding space for others to forgiving ourselves, each voice in the circle added something honest and real. The drawings bloomed with color, but more importantly, so did the people …
The session closed with open hearts and softened edges. And with each event, Jian Bird Creates now offers a Certificate of Participation, a small reminder that showing up for yourself is something to honor …
Warmly,
Roksana Amelia
Artist, Jian Bird Creates
Go My Way
Today, I poured watercolours onto the paper. I didn’t control the flow. I just let them move, soft, wild, honest …
It felt like life. Sometimes, it makes no sense. But still, I move with it. I let it run through me. I follow what feels true, even if no one else understands it …
Nothing made sense today. Nothing went as planned. But I chose to go anyway.
Go right. Go forward. Go my way …
Because even when nothing goes right,
I can still go right …
In my own way …
Someone
The Gentle Ripples of Yes
The butterfly effect means small actions can lead to big changes. Like a butterfly flapping its wings and causing a distant storm, one quiet choice can shape our future. It shows how everything is connected, even simple moments can lead to powerful transformations over time …
Over the past year, I’ve seen this truth unfold in my own life. A single decision, to take a walk, go on a journey, or say yes to a trip, or to start painting, led to deeper healing and new strength …
There was the trip to the Maldives, a place that was never on my list. I hadn’t planned it, yet it turned out to be a gentle gift. I didn’t know I would need that much in my core, and I would love so much of the stillness of the sea, the crystal-clear color of the water, the softness of the days, it all felt like life was giving me something I didn’t know I needed …
Now, as I reflect, I see that letting myself explore the unknown began with small, quiet steps. Like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings, those moments created ripples I’m still feeling today …
And see, I’m learning to trust the small steps because they just might lead me somewhere beautiful …
Butterfly effect is real, I believe, and you?
I♥️
Presence
But listen
You are allowed to take up space
To speak and not explain
To choose and not apologise
To rest without guilt
The world does not collapse when you say no
You are not unkind for drawing a line
You are not selfish for wanting more
There is power in your presence
Even when it is firm
Even when it is loud
Even when it is yours
What part of you have you been quieting, and is it time to let it speak?
I♥️
Roksana Tales 