Letting The Mind Breathe

I began these mindful drawings in a fragile, unsettled state of mind. My thoughts felt scattered, restless, overlapping, too many at once. So I picked up colours and let them move without planning, without forcing sense or structure. I didn’t try to control the flow; I let the flow carry me. As the colours settled, so did parts of me.

While doing this, a thought stayed with me: Is this even anything? Later, that thought came back through others. Some asked, “What kind of painting is this?” Some said, “It has no meaning.” Some looked longer, trying to extract logic, trying to name it, trying to make sense of it. Others simply found it beautiful.

I noticed how familiar this felt. How people always want to define, label, approve, or dismiss. How art becomes a mirror for their own need to understand or control. And I realised, this is not new. This is human nature.

But this wasn’t made for explanation. It was made for survival. For breathing. For letting my scattered thoughts land somewhere gentle

I don’t need everyone to understand it. I don’t need to defend it. People may say so many different things. They always will. And what we need to do is to continue to do what we do, quietly, honestly, and with care! That’s enough!

And somehow, in the midst of all this, these paintings reside in a foreign land, resting there with a grace that still surprises me!

#roksanatales

Residing Happily, In Tokyo, Japan

Bravery

Climb the hill
Then jump across the small gap
Bravery feels free …

#roksanatales

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 …

#roksanatales

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 …

#roksanatales

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What might shift in your life if you began to embrace a little less, and notice a little more?