A journey called life

Journey.

It is an interesting word.

We usually imagine a journey as something that has a destination. A beginning, a route, a few milestones and eventually, a place we are trying to reach.

Life does not work that way.

There is no fixed destination. 

The route keeps changing. 

People come into our lives and leave them. Some stay for years, some for a season. Some change the course of our lives. Some leave quietly.

Circumstances change. The world around us changes.

And we change with it.

Yet through every beginning, every ending and every transformation, there is one person who remains present through the entire journey: ourselves.

Perhaps that is why the foundation we begin with matters so much.

For me, that foundation was my parents.

Growing up in a home where my choices were not constantly questioned, where my place in my parents’ lives was never in doubt, and where I was allowed to make mistakes, learn, grow and find my own path shaped my life in ways I can never fully put into words.

It gave me something more valuable than certainty.

It gave me the freedom to be myself.

And this Teachers’ Day, when I think of the many teachers and gurus who have guided me through school, college, my master’s degrees and beyond, one person inevitably stands apart.

My mother, Mrs. Rajalakshmi Kannan.

My high school Chemistry teacher.

My teacher in so many other things.

My lifelong guide.

She taught me to believe in myself. To believe in the goodness in the world. To face disappointment and challenges with grace. To spread hope and positivity by living those values rather than simply talking about them.

She set a standard so high that simply trying to live by those ideals makes a person more refined, more gracious and, hopefully, a little more classy.

I have a particularly fond memory of Teachers’ Day from school.

We had a tradition where the 10th standard students would wear sarees and take classes for the day. Each of us would be assigned a teacher whose classes we would handle.

For most teachers, I imagine, it was probably a lovely opportunity to let the students have some fun, manage the class for a day and perhaps enjoy a leisurely cup of coffee in the staff room while the students took over.

My mother had other ideas.

She gave me her lesson plan.

She gave me her syllabus.

And she expected me to actually teach it.

So there I was, in a saree, standing in front of her 8th standard class, teaching aluminium extraction and balancing equations, while she watched from the window.

What stayed with me was not the saree or even the Chemistry.

It was the seriousness with which she trusted me.

She did not give me a simplified version because I was a student. She believed I could take her class, follow her lesson plan and do the job properly.

That confidence stayed with me.

Perhaps that is why I always give my best even when nobody is watching.

When you take something upon yourself, you do it with integrity.

You do it with care and precision.

I think that is one of the most valuable lessons she ever taught me.

Today, I wish she were here.

I wish she could read my books, listen to my thoughts, add her perspective, challenge me, enrich my ideas and perhaps even write her own books.

There is so much I would still like to share with her.

But she is still part of my journey.

In the way I think.

In the values I try to live by.

In the strength with which I face disappointments.

In the hope I try to pass on.

And in the lives of the many students she taught, who went on to accomplish so much.

Some teachers teach a subject.

Some teach us lessons.

And some become part of the person we spend our entire journey becoming.

I was fortunate enough to have one of those.

Happy Teachers’ Day, Amma. ❤️

Music, Memories, Books: An Ode to My Mother

Some memories are stored in photographs. Some live in old letters, familiar places, or the voices of people we have loved. For me, some of mine live in songs.

Music has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. Before I understood what music could do, I knew what it felt like to hear my mother sing.

My mother, Mrs. Rajalakshmi Kannan, was trained in Carnatic music and had a beautiful, melodic, pitch-perfect voice. I grew up listening to compositions that I now know are extraordinarily difficult. At the time, they simply belonged to my world because they belonged to hers.

She was also the person who introduced me to far more than music. She taught me to notice subtlety, beauty and the finer things in life. Every one of my books carries a quiet dedication to her, because so much of what I create begins there.

Today, my listening moves freely through Hindustani classical, Carnatic, operatic pop, jazz, country, fusion, film music and instrumentals. Genre has never mattered as much as what the music makes me feel. If a piece of music evokes something deep within me, it finds a place in my playlist.

Whenever I write fiction, songs find their way into the story, and before long, each novel has its own playlist.

Music is not something that one listens just for relaxation. It gives memories a place to live. Certain songs belong to people, others to seasons of life, and some become inseparable from characters who exist only on a page.

So I began creating playlists for my novels.

Taste of Fate has songs that became intertwined with Maya and Arjun’s journey. Work-Love Balance has Vikram’s Setlist because Vikram is a singer and music is woven into his story.

With Wings of Love, I wanted to do something a little different.

There are two Spotify playlists this time.

🎧 Reading Companion: instrumental music to accompany the novel and create the mood while you read.

🎼 The Soundtrack to Wings of Love: songs that remind me of Shalini, Vishal and the emotions that shape their story.

Perhaps this is why making a playlist for every novel has become such a natural part of writing for me. It began with a mother who filled our home with music and taught me to notice the beautiful things. Rajalakshmi Kannan will always be part of whatever I do. Anything good in me has been imbibed from her. Whatever is flawed is entirely my own.

This playlist tradition, like so much else in my life, is dedicated to her.

If you’re a music lover like me and would like the Spotify links, comment PLAYLIST and I’ll DM them to you.

#WingsofLove #Soundtrack #ReadingCompanion #Love #Friendship

Why Advice Isn’t Always Helpful: A Psychologist’s Perspective.

In my work, I have often seen people who are already struggling receive plenty of advice.

What they should have done.

What they should do now.

What they should have known better.

Sometimes, the advice is perfectly sensible. Sometimes, it merely states what the person already knows.

“Take it one step at a time.”

“Think positively.”

“You know what you need to do.”

“Try to stay calm.”

There is nothing inherently wrong with any of these statements. In another moment, they may even be useful.

But timing matters.

Knowing what to do and being able to do it while overwhelmed are two very different things.

A person experiencing intense stress, fear, grief or emotional overload does not suddenly lose all knowledge of what is sensible. Often, the difficulty is elsewhere. They may know exactly what they need to do and still feel unable to do it. Emotional overwhelm can narrow attention, cloud thinking and make even simple decisions feel difficult.

This is something I have observed repeatedly in my work.

Sometimes people do not need another explanation of their situation. They have already analysed it themselves, often repeatedly. They know where things went wrong. They know what they should probably do next.

What they may need first is to feel heard.

Sometimes they need someone to stay with the discomfort rather than immediately trying to fix it.

Sometimes they need practical help.

And sometimes, they simply need a hand.

Advice is not the problem. Advice has its place. Perspective has its place too.

The question is whether we have understood the person’s state before deciding what they need.

One of the important things I have learnt through my work is that when people are overwhelmed, more information is not always more helpful. Before deciding what someone needs to hear, perhaps it is worth pausing long enough to understand what they are actually experiencing.

Because helping is not always about having the right thing to say.

Sometimes, it begins with understanding where the other person is before deciding how to help them from there.

Janani Srikanth is an author, psychologist and human behaviour specialist whose work explores the mind, emotions, relationships and the patterns that shape everyday human behaviour.

She is also a mental health advocate whose work contributes to creating more open, informed conversations around psychological well-being and challenging the silence and stigma surrounding mental health.

She is the author of several books across psychology, personal growth and fiction.

Explore her books: https://www.amazon.in/stores/Janani-Srikanth/author/B0BTX2G413
Explore her mental health advocacy work: https://jananisrikanth.com/break-the-taboo