It was a quiet early morning on a train out of the city. I was traveling for one of my spiritual retreats, trying to keep my focus inward, as always. The journey had its usual rhythm—the low hum of the train, and all the nature around. I was so caught up in the morning prayers to the divine when I caught a glimpse of someone familiar.

Atul Tyagi (Soulful and Sociopolitical Writer).

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Dec 20, 2024

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Ananya.

I froze for a moment, unsure if my eyes were playing tricks on me. But no, it was her. There she was, sitting by the window, her profile silhouetted against the fading light. She looked… different. Calmer, quieter, more settled, yet there was something unmistakable about her. It was like she had matured in every sense of the word but still held on to the core of who she was.

I didn't approach her. I didn’t want to disrupt her peace or create a stir after so many years. Instead, I just observed her quietly, making sure she didn’t notice me. Watching her brought back memories of the bubbly, high-spirited girl I knew a decade ago. She seemed so full of life back then, almost like a flame that burned too bright. Now, she looked more composed, but the innocence—that pure spark in her eyes—was still there. It made me smile. That innocence proved that life hadn’t hardened her completely, and I hoped she would never lose it.

I noticed the diary she was writing in. It was the same one I had gifted her years ago. I didn’t even remember the details of what was inside, but seeing her with it stirred something in me. It made me wonder why it wasn’t filled up yet, after all this time. Was she still writing in it occasionally? Or had she kept it as a reminder of our shared bond over words?

A part of me wanted to walk over and say something. Anything. But no, I couldn’t. Her life had taken a different turn, and she seemed to be making her way just fine. She deserved the space to grow, and I didn’t want to stir up emotions or reopen old chapters that were better left untouched. For me, more than meeting her, what mattered most was seeing her evolve. That was enough.

For a moment, I thought about all the time that had passed and how both of us had changed. Over the last ten years, I’ve been on my own journey—an intense one, full of mistakes, realizations, and inner work. Healing the mess I’ve created over lifetimes hasn’t been easy. Letting go of old patterns and embracing a deeper level of receptivity—it’s like trying to break a cycle that has been running for ages. And to be honest, receptivity doesn’t come naturally to men like it does to women. It’s been a struggle, but I’ve chosen this path consciously, and I’m staying with it.

Sometimes, I feel I’ve made a fool of myself in this lifetime and many others. My actions, the negative patterns, the unhealed vasanas—they’re all catching up. And yet, I keep trying to resolve them, one by one. This journey is less about forming new relationships and more about dissolving old ones with grace. That’s why I knew I couldn’t step into her life again. Not because I didn’t care, but because I cared too much.

Seeing her now was a reminder that maybe something between us remains incomplete—some karmic thread still connecting us. But I realized I don’t need to do anything outwardly to resolve it. I can send her healing, just as I do for many others. That’s my purpose now: to work on myself, radiate healing energy, and let people find their paths without clinging or interfering. It’s all about austerity, but an effortless kind.

As the train slowed at a station, I watched her gathering her things. She had no idea I was there. I let her go, carrying her peace and innocence forward. She left the train, walking confidently but with the same touch of softness I always admired about her.

I sat back and closed my eyes, a quiet sense of closure washing over me. I sent her a silent prayer—a hope for her continued growth, happiness, and connection with the divine. Because that’s what love feels like to me now—not about possessing someone or even being with them, but wanting their soul to shine, no matter where life takes them.

I don’t know if our paths will cross again. Maybe, in this lifetime, that chapter is meant to stay incomplete. And that’s okay. Completion doesn’t always mean being together; it’s about letting go and allowing each other to flourish in our own ways. As I move forward, I’ll keep walking this path, trying to resolve, evolve, and one day, maybe, finally merge back with the divine.