I don’t know if life has come full circle. But it feels like I’m standing at a point where I can see the consequences of every seed once sown — even the ones I regret planting. Time, as they say, is a strange healer. It doesn’t erase the past, but it dulls the sting. The rage, the grief, the helpless ache… they slowly dissolve into a kind of quiet understanding.
But there are scars that no healing touches. Wounds inflicted long ago — not by enemies, but by those I once held close — they carved something permanent into me. Not like the betrayal that came 17 years ago.
Some say, “They’re suffering now. Maybe you could reach out. Offer help. Give solace. Be the bigger person.”
And honestly? I could. By God’s grace, I now stand in a place where I can offer help — financially, emotionally, morally. I’ve walked through fire and come out carrying water. I *could* be that person. But my heart whispers otherwise.
Because some things are not meant to be mended.
There’s a saying in Tamil: **“Pambukku paal vaikkaradhu.”** You don’t offer milk to a snake. Not out of vengeance, but out of wisdom. Some people aren’t meant to return to your life — not because you wish them harm, but because they once destroyed what was sacred. Trust. Friendship. Brotherhood.
What God took away, He did for a reason. And what He gave in return — new people, real allies, relationships born in fire and forged in loyalty — they are my true blessings. I don’t curse the ones who broke me. I don’t wish ruin upon them. But I won’t let them walk back in either.
I’ve made peace, yes. But peace doesn’t mean reunion.
Tag: self-growth
The Day I Hired My Destiny
They say life is nothing but a series of choices — some we make in seconds, some after years of thought. But it’s the unexpected ones, the small decisions on seemingly ordinary days, that end up shaping our destiny the most.
In 2004, I made such a choice.
I hired someone.
That’s it. A routine decision. A resume, a handshake, a promise of a new beginning — it felt like just another Monday on the entrepreneurial calendar.
She was from a small town, working in a call center, holding an MBA in HR but desperate for a break. I saw that raw hunger and decided to offer her a platform — I thought I was enabling a young professional’s dream. Maybe, in some corner of my mind, I even saw a reflection of my own past struggles — that same raw desperation to make it.
I had built my first venture with a dear partner, brick by brick, dream by dream. We didn’t have connections, we didn’t have family money cushioning our falls. All we had was ambition that kept us awake at night and a silent promise to each other that we would make it, no matter what.
But sometimes, we forget — when you open your door wide for someone, they might walk in carrying not gratitude, but greed.
She wasn’t cunning or a mastermind. She was simply short-sighted, hungry for quick luxury, blinded by instant pleasures. While we were busy building a company to stand the test of time, she was busy living in borrowed moments, chasing dinners, perfumes, designer labels — things that glitter only till the lights are on.
In her desperate rush for the high life, she didn’t just stumble — she pulled down everything in her path.
She rattled a ship that was floating on the fragile balance of two young dreamers. She planted doubts, sowed jealousy, whispered false comforts — and before I knew it, the dream I had once guarded like a newborn was thrown out with me.
In 2008, I was pushed out of my own creation. My partner too slowly fell into a pit he couldn’t climb out of. The venture that had so much promise, that spark in our eyes — it all vanished like an unfinished verse in a torn diary.
But the tragedy didn’t spare her either.
The same greed that fueled her steps ultimately consumed her life. She ended up as lost as we were broken — a stark reminder that shortcuts don’t just ruin roads, they erase destinations.
Years later, people still ask me, “What went wrong?”
I don’t blame fate, nor do I hold the world accountable. My only mistake? Hiring the wrong person on that one day in 2004. That single signature on a simple appointment letter shifted the course of twenty-one years of my life.
If I could ask God for just one gift, I wouldn’t ask for money, fame, or even a second chance.
I would simply ask Him to make me dream backwards — just for one night.
A dream where I go back to that fateful day, fix that one decision, and erase that moment when I hired her.
A dream where I see myself and my partner, two young boys with fire in their eyes, running a company that’s recognised, respected, and celebrated by all.
A dream where we are still fighting side by side, laughing over cheap tea, planning crazy ideas that kept us up all night, watching our tiny dream grow into an empire that even we can’t believe we built.
And in that dream, I want to see us standing on a stage, receiving awards, hearing applause, hugging each other with tears in our eyes — whispering, “We did it, against all odds.”
I want to wake up in the morning and still taste that dream, feel its warmth in my veins, carry its fragrance in my mind.
But life doesn’t give us that luxury.
So, I move forward — with scars, with lessons, and with the silent prayer that no one else ever has to learn it the way I did.
From Wounds to Scars: A Lesson in Karma and Healing
There was a time when betrayal felt like an open wound. When someone cheated or double-crossed me, I didn’t just feel hurt, I felt an almost animalistic urge for revenge. I wanted blood. I wanted them to feel the pain I was going through.
Other times, I felt like a helpless victim. I moved away quietly, carrying my heartbreak and frustration like a heavy bag I couldn’t put down. And as I carried it, that pain slowly turned into a deep sense of anger, depression, and a silent scream that no one else could hear.
Years passed. The sharpness of those wounds dulled. They turned into scars, they are always there, but no longer bleeding. Life went on, and I learned to walk forward with those scars stitched into my story.
And then, life did something unexpected.
Within this year, two of the people who had wronged me, the very people I once wanted revenge against had finally faced the consequences of their actions. Karma, as we like to call it, had arrived.
But here’s the surprising part: it didn’t make me feel victorious. It didn’t bring me the happiness or relief I thought I’d feel a decade ago when those wounds were raw.
Instead, it felt like reading a piece of news. Just information. A passing moment of, Oh, I see. Life has its own way of balancing things out.
I realized something important in that moment:
I had outgrown my need for revenge.
Back then, revenge felt like the only closure that could heal me. But healing never really waited for karma. Healing happened inside me, as I moved forward and rebuilt myself piece by piece.
Karma didn’t come to heal me; it simply came to do its job. The person I am today is no longer the same person who once stayed up at night imagining ways to “even the score.” Today, I find peace in knowing that I survived, that I grew stronger, and that my life is no longer defined by those betrayals.
The scars? They remain. But they are no longer a source of pain, they are reminders of how far I’ve come.
If karma had arrived ten years ago, it might have felt like a victory. Today, it feels like a gentle whisper from the universe: “Keep going. You’re already free.”
Don’t wait for karma to heal you.
Don’t wait for someone else to hurt for you to move forward.
Your healing is yours — and the most powerful revenge is to build a life so full that you no longer look back waiting for justice.
AnandNataraj 