Strong, Silent… and Stressed: A Love Note to the Men Who Feel (but Won’t Admit It)

 They say men are from Mars and women are from Venus. But honestly, I think men are just from a corner of Earth where feelings are hidden behind cricket scores, sarcastic one-liners, and refusing to ask for directions because — you guessed it — “Mard ko dard nahi hota.”

Spoiler alert: Mard ko sab kuch hota hai. Dard bhi, heartbreak bhi, anxiety bhi… and yes, even FOMO.

Somewhere between “be a man” and “don’t cry like a girl,” men were handed a 400-page emotional instruction manual… and told to ignore it completely. They were trained to fix leaky taps, kill cockroaches with slippers, and bottle up their emotions tighter than last year’s Diwali sweets.

So this one’s for them — the strong, silent, slightly-suffering souls who’ve been conditioned to “deal with it” until one day they just can’t anymore.

When Men Feel… But Can’t Afford To

Let’s call it what it is: men do feel — joy, pain, fear, self-doubt, PMS (Post-Match Sadness), and everything in between. They just don’t get the memo that it’s okay to say it out loud.

The emotional vocabulary given to most men ends at:

• “I’m fine.”
• “It’s nothing.”
• “Aur kya chal raha hai, bhai?”

That’s not emotional stoicism. That’s just emotional buffering on a very slow connection.

They’ve been told vulnerability is weakness, so they walk around carrying grief, shame, and unspoken fears like over-packed cabin baggage — pretending it’s light, even when it’s clearly dragging on the floor.

Is It a Crime to Feel Things, Bro?

Now let’s address the very awkward (but necessary) elephant in the room.

When a woman cries, we rush with tissues, tea, therapy, and a whole squad named “Self-Love Sundays.”

But when a man breaks down? We look confused, uncomfortable, and secretly hope he’ll stop before we have to feel feelings too.

Domestic violence against women? Laws, helplines, awareness drives, public outrage.

Domestic violence against men? Punchlines, memes, and “Are you serious? Bro, grow a spine!”

Look, this isn’t a competition in suffering. But emotions — and injustice — shouldn’t be gender exclusive. Men deserve empathy, not just expectations.

Creating the Emotional WiFi Zone (No Password Needed)

Here’s how we, as women, sisters, friends, and partners, can help change the script:

• Listen without laughing. Even if he’s scared of lizards. Yes, even the tiny ones.
• Don’t ‘fix’ everything. Sometimes he just wants to rant about his boss being a chai-sipping dictator. Let him.
• Don’t weaponize his emotions later. If he opens up about childhood trauma, don’t use it to win an argument six months later.
• Model emotional honesty. Cry during movies, say “I’m scared,” admit when you feel lost. It gives him permission to do the same.

Think of it like emotional WiFi — invisible, but powerful when it’s freely available and doesn’t make anyone feel like they’re overusing data.

When Silence Gets Dangerous

Now, here’s the not-so-funny bit (but one we can’t ignore).

Men are dying in silence. Literally. The rising suicide rates among men aren’t because they don’t have problems. It’s because they’re too scared or ashamed to talk about them. Because no one taught them how.

Because “Mard ko dard nahi hota” became the world’s most harmful plot twist.

Strong Looks Different Now

Being strong isn’t about having a six-pack and pretending your heart doesn’t ache.

It’s about showing up, even when you’re scared.

Speaking up, even when your voice trembles.

And feeling things — deeply, honestly, and without apology.

So, to the men reading this — and the women who love them — let’s rewrite the script. Let’s normalise hugs that last longer, conversations that go deeper, and safe spaces that don’t smell like judgment.

Because behind every “I’m fine” is a man who’s probably just tired of pretending.

And maybe — just maybe — he’s waiting for someone to look at him and say,

“Hey, Mard ho… toh kya hua? Tum bhi insaan ho, yaar.”

Baap Ki Baapta – The Unsung Symphony of Silent Sacrifice

When we speak of love, nurturing, and sacrifice, our minds instinctively paint the picture of a mother — “Maa ki Mamta” has been celebrated in poems, movies, and lullabies. Rightly so. But in this melodic chorus of motherhood, we often forget the silent rhythm of another hero — the father. what about Baap ki Baapta?

Yes, I said it. Baapta. That quiet, unshakable, rarely-glorified superpower of a father.

We celebrate moms with hashtags and spa vouchers (not nearly enough, btw), but fathers? At best, they get a new wallet, a “cool dad” mug, and if they’re really lucky — a slightly burnt pancake shaped like a heart.(Which they will eat anyway, proudly, because… dad 🤣)

But here's the thing — a mother carries a child in her womb for nine months, but a father carries the responsibility of that child in his mind, bank account, and blood pressure for a lifetime. often quietly, invisibly, but always, always steadfastly.
Is that not a kind of sacrifice too?

He may not be the one picking the right-size diapers at 2 AM (though some do, bless them),His sacrifices don’t come wrapped in lullabies or tears. They come in longer hours, missed meals, silent fears, and unread emotions. His love doesn’t always show up in hugs or bedtime stories. It hides in bills paid on time, shoes bought a size bigger so they last longer, and quiet nods of approval when his child stumbles and gets back up.

We talk — and rightly so — about postpartum care, baby blues, and the tsunami of emotions that hit a new mom. But what about new dads?

Does his world not change overnight? Does he not wrestle with emotions — joy, fear, responsibility, doubt — all at once?

Do we ever pause and ask,
“Hey buddy, how you feeling about suddenly being someone’s lifelong superhero, financial planner, handyman, and moral compass?”
Nope. We just hand him the camera and ask him to click pictures of the mother and baby.

Fathers feel.
They feel fear, love, inadequacy, pressure, pride — often all at once. But they don’t vent.

But where do they go with those feelings?
Most often, nowhere.

Because somewhere, we decided that strength equals silence. That emotion is a feminine trait. That if a man expresses vulnerability, it’s weakness.

But let’s be honest — it takes immense strength to carry the emotional weight of a family and not break down. It takes courage to show up every single day, even when you're tired, worried, or unsure.

But what they provide — emotionally, socially, and yes, financially — builds a deep-rooted sense of security in a child that even the most successful, independent woman (me included) might admit:
There’s nothing quite like a father’s protective presence.

This post isn’t about comparing roles or proving who sacrifices more. It’s a gentle reminder:
Let’s stop weighing love in gendered terms. Let’s learn to appreciate both — equally, loudly, and wholeheartedly.

We say women are expressive and nurturing. But maybe it’s time we became more expressive in our gratitude towards the men in our lives —  to all the dads, step-dads, father figures, partners, brothers, uncles, friends, neighbours, and even that random man at the airport who lifts a stranger’s toddler stroller with a kind smile — a big, loud, standing ovation to you.

So here’s a loud, unapologetic, full-hearted shoutout to every father and father figure —
To the one who showed up, even when he didn’t know how.
To the one who gave up his dreams so his child could chase theirs.
To the one who stood tall when he was breaking inside.
To the one who never asked for appreciation, but oh, how much he deserves it!

To my own father — who is no longer with me — not a day goes by when I don’t think of you, look up to you, and wish I had told you just how much you meant to me. I carry your strength in every step.
And to my husband, the most amazing father I could have ever wished for my children — your love, presence, and quiet strength are the pillars of our home. Watching you with our kids is one of life’s greatest joys.

This Father’s Day, don’t just behave like he matters.
Tell him. Show him. Celebrate him.

Because sometimes, even our strongest need to be reminded that they are seen, loved, and appreciated — not just on this day, but every day.

Happy Father’s Day to all the incredible men who’ve made us feel safe, strong, and seen.

You are the unsung verses in the song of our lives.

With love and gratitude,
Grace in the Grit

Raising Graceful Rebels: Parenting in the Chaos of Midlife

Disclaimer: My kids are truly wonderful - polite, respectful and have yet to make me stress-eat chocolates straight from the fridge before 10 am, This blog is not a reflection of them, but rather of the collective chaos, that is modern motherhood. they are angels. I however am very much still under construction!!

Let's set the scene:

You're negotiating a screen-time limit with a 15year old who speaks perfect GenZ, while  simultaneously Googling,"What is the difference between perimenopause and losing your mind?"

Welcome to midlife parenting in 2025- where you're raising future adults while navigating hot-flashes, fluctuating moods, and a world that's changed faster than your metabolism.

We, the Millennials (Hi, fellow CD-burning, Orkut-using tribe👋👋👋), we were raised in a world of "Because I said so", Dial-up internet, and one phone for the entire family.

Our Kids? They're growing up in the age of AI girlfriends/boyfriends, Dopamine - fueled Reels, and group chats with more drama than a soap opera.

It’s no longer just a generation gap. It’s a generation canyon. With Wi-Fi at the bottom.

Let’s be honest: parenting in this generation feels like playing a game where the rules change every 15 minutes, and the referee is your teenager with an Insta account and strong opinions about everything from politics to Matcha Lattes.

Meanwhile, you’re over here googling “Is it perimenopause or am I just done with everyone?”.

Welcome to the emotional jungle where you’re raising adolescents while navigating midlife and hot flashes — all at once. If this isn’t grit with a side of grace, I don’t know what is.

First, Who are these Graceful Rebels?

They're not just rule-breakers with good manners.
They're the ones who question everything — from homework to human rights — but still ask if you want a bite of their fries.

They know their pronouns, their boundaries, and their snack preferences.
They’ll challenge the system, but also cuddle with the dog and say “thanks” after dinner.

That’s what we’re aiming for.
Not robots. Not rebels without a cause.
Rebels with grace. And maybe deodorant. Please, let it be deodorant.

Now Enter:Midlife Mayhem

Let’s talk hormones — theirs and ours.

They’re experiencing teenage angst. You’re experiencing night sweats, random rage, and that special kind of fatigue that no nap can fix.

They roll their eyes 🙄🙄🙄.
You forget why you walked into the room 😕😕😕.
They listen to bass-heavy beats.
You listen to your bones cracking when you stand up.

It’s like living with someone who’s emotionally volatile while being emotionally fragile yourself.

It’s not them v/s us.
It’s all of us v/s biology. And no one’s winning 😧.

When Peer Pressure Punches through Your Parenting:

You’ve set all the right boundaries: screen time, open conversations, digital detox Sundays.

And yet, you find your child begging for the latest app or quoting someone named “Skibidi Rizz King” as if it’s scripture.

Peer influence is real. It’s fast. And no matter how disciplined your household is, the world outside will leak in.

Here’s what works (sometimes):

• Be curious, not controlling. Ask “What do you like about this trend?” instead of “Why are you obsessed with this nonsense?”

• Use the Three C’s:

  • Connection over control

  • Conversation over commands

  • Consistency over chaos

• Build their inner compass. Because when you’re not around (read: school, sleepovers, the scary land of the internet), that’s what guides them — not your voice, but their values.

Bridging the Generational Gap (Or should we just build a Tunnel and Yell through it?)

Here’s the thing: we grew up with landlines and moral lectures. They’re growing up with FaceTime and therapy lingo.

Our parents said “Don’t talk back.”
We’re saying “Let’s discuss your emotional triggers.”

So the question is: do we bridge the gap — or just respectfully wave across it?

The answer: A bit of both.

• Bridge what matters. Values, empathy, kindness, curiosity, and the courage to question without cruelty.
• Let go of what doesn’t. Fashion choices, music taste, slang, and their refusal to use punctuation in texts. It’s not personal. It’s cultural.

We don’t have to become them.
We just have to be someone they can come to.
Even if we don’t understand 80% of what they say.

Real Talk: it's Okay to be the Parent Who's Still is Figuring It Out

You’re allowed to cry in the car after a tough morning.
You’re allowed to laugh inappropriately at a meme that perfectly captures your teenager’s attitude.
You’re allowed to set boundaries and then question them five minutes later.

We are the generation parenting without a blueprint.
We’re learning to raise emotionally intelligent kids while healing our own emotional glitches.
We’re learning to give freedom without losing control.
We’re learning to let go while holding on to what truly matters.

And in all of this — in the hormones, in the peer drama, in the “You don’t get it, Mom!” —
we are becoming rebels too.
Graceful ones.

Grace in the Mess

Here’s what I remind myself on the hard days: They’re not supposed to be perfect. Neither am I.

They’re learning how to be people.

We’re learning how to let go.

Some days we get it right. Some days we eat too much chocolate and scroll parenting memes while texting our friends “Same fight again. SOS.”

But through it all, we show up. Even when we’re tired. Even when our hormonal rollercoaster says “maybe don’t.” Even when our teens say “Urgghhh, MOOOM.”

And that? That is grace. That is rebellion — the good kind.

The Final Word(Before Someone Yells "MOM!" again)

They may not always listen.
But they’re always watching.

They see how you handle stress.
They watch how you treat yourself.
They notice how you show up — even when you’re tired, unsure, or overwhelmed.

So give yourself grace.
Laugh often. Cry if needed.
Apologize when you lose it.
Celebrate the little wins.

You're not failing.
You're just parenting- Midlife edition.

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The Power of Female Friendships After 40: Rediscovering Ourselves, Together

  There’s something magical about turning 40. It's a quiet kind of magic—one that doesn't come with fireworks or fanfare, but with a slow, beautiful shedding. The kids who once clung to us now want their space. The years of juggling PTA meetings, naptimes, teenage drama, and constant "Mom, Mom, Mom" are gradually being replaced by eerie silences—and a strange sense of liberation.

This is not an empty nest yet, but it's definitely a lighter one. And in this in-between space, something starts to stir. A longing. A desire. A quiet voice inside saying, "Now what about me?"

Female Friendships: The Lifeline We Didn’t Know We Needed

At this stage, something truly transformational happens: we begin to seek out—and deeply value—the company of other women just like us. Female friendships after 40 aren't just about socializing or grabbing coffee; they’re about survival. They are balm to the soul and fuel to the spirit.

These friendships become a space to breathe. To vent. To laugh so hard you cry. To share frustrations about night sweats and hormonal chaos, and the constant mental acrobatics of being “available” to ageing in-laws, teenagers craving independence, and husbands deep in their own midlife muddle.

Here, in the circle of women who get it, you don’t have to explain yourself. You don’t have to tone it down. You can show up—messy, moody, magical—and be met with understanding eyes and knowing nods.

No Longer Bound by “Zamana Kya Kahega”

At 40, something else starts to fall away—the shackles of "log kya kahenge?" We're not here to impress anymore. We're not desperate to prove our worth as the perfect bahu, doting mom, or flawless wife. We've done our part, and we're still doing it—with care and responsibility—but now, we’re also reaching for ourselves.

We’re not rebelling—we’re reclaiming!!!

And in this sacred reclaiming, our female friendships become the mirror that reminds us who we were before we were everything to everyone.

Sailing the Same Storm, Side by Side

There’s profound comfort in walking beside women who are sailing the same storm. The mood swings, the insomnia, the aches and the angst—there’s no need for pretense here. These women aren’t just sympathizing; they’re living it too.

Together, you find safe harbor. You swap stories, exchange remedies, laugh over silly mistakes, cry without guilt, and hold space for each other’s truth. It’s the kind of therapy no professional can offer—because it comes from shared living, not theory.

Reigniting the Flame Within

Female friendships after 40 are also about rediscovery.

That painting you once loved but gave up when the diapers came? The dancing, the poetry, the travel dreams shelved for someday? This is the time to dust them off—and your girlfriends will be your biggest cheerleaders as you do.

They’ll nudge you into signing up for that Zumba class. They’ll push you to go on that weekend retreat. They’ll remind you that joy isn’t frivolous—it's necessary.

This Isn’t the End—It’s the Beginning

Midlife isn’t a crisis. It’s a portal. A sacred doorway into a more authentic, grounded, powerful version of you. And walking through it with your tribe of women makes the journey not only bearable but beautiful.

So call that friend. Make that plan. Book that weekend. Cry, laugh, dance, vent—do whatever your soul needs. Because after 40, female friendships aren’t a luxury. They’re a lifeline. They’re how we find our way back to ourselves.

Together.

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To the women embracing this new season of life: You're not alone. And you’re not lost. You’re just finding your way back home—to you!

Welcome to Grace in the Grit

 A space for stories, reflections, and finding light in the unlikeliest places

We all live layered lives — full of beauty, chaos, monotony, heartbreak, quiet victories, and unexpected moments of meaning. I’ve always been a keen observer of people — their expressions, their silences, the stories they carry in their eyes. There’s something endlessly fascinating about how each of us navigates this world. And somewhere in watching all of that, I found the urge to write.

This blog, Grace in the Grit, is born from that urge.

It’s my way of making sense of what I see and feel — the resilience in the ordinary, the strength behind soft smiles, the quiet dignity in daily struggles. For me, “grace in the grit” isn’t just a phrase. It’s how I’ve learned to move through my own challenges — not by pretending everything is perfect, but by choosing to find something meaningful, even when things are messy.

This space isn’t about grand transformations or polished perfection. It’s about noticing the small things — a kind word, a moment of stillness, a deep breath when the world feels too loud. It’s about expressing what often goes unsaid.

You can expect stories, musings, reflections — sometimes raw, sometimes poetic, sometimes simply honest. I hope this becomes a space where you can find something that resonates with you, something that feels like sitting across from a friend who gets it.

So here we are.
This is my way of showing up.
Of writing out loud.
Of honouring the grit — and the grace — in all of us.

Welcome, and thank you for being here. 🌿