My eternal love
Dear Mai,
Before the day of Guru Purnima comes to an end, I wanted to write you a letter. Strangely, this is the first letter I have ever written to you. I never really needed to write one—you were always there with me. And even when you were not physically beside me, you were just a phone call away.
I miss you, Mai.
You were the one I loved with all my heart. But saying “you loved me” is not enough. A mother’s love cannot be measured in words. It is eternal, unconditional, and perhaps the purest form of love that exists.
From my childhood, I somehow always felt that I had to protect you, that I had to live for you. You were so vulnerable and so innocent at times. You were an ambitious young woman whose dreams were crushed—first by your parental family and then by your marital family.
I often marvelled at your resilience, but I also struggled with the fact that you never stood up for yourself. Perhaps no one had ever taught you how. Yet, despite that, you taught us something even more valuable—to withstand pressure, to remain strong, and to follow our dreams.
Today is the first Guru Purnima when I cannot touch your feet. You are my first Guru. Distance, time, and even death cannot change that.
I still remember the last Guru Purnima in the hospital. You were so unwell. I don’t know whether I was being insensitive or simply trying to prepare myself when I said, “Mom, let me offer my last pranam to you.” And you quietly replied, “My last blessing to you. Everything comes to an end. Nothing is stagnant.”
Mai… I have carried those words in my heart ever since.
Did I, in some way, push you to leave this world by saying that?
I don’t know why this thought keeps haunting me.
I am sorry, Mom.
I love you. And I miss you far more than words can ever express.
I am still trying to figure out what life is without you. My life revolved around you—our countless conversations, those little phone calls every now and then, asking each other the smallest things. It has been a year now without hearing your voice. I still cannot believe that life has somehow continued.
But believe me, a part of me left with you forever.
However hard I try, I know I will never be the same person again.
On this Guru Purnima, I bow my head before my first Guru—my Mai.
Jai Guru, Mummy!!
Your Deepu, always.
Category: Founder’s Journal
-
From the Founder’s Desk
Journal Entry #1
Opening the Doors to the GyaniNani Reading Room
1 July 2026
“We believe that meaningful conversations can change the way we see ourselves, each other, and the world”
Some dreams arrive quietly.
Not with applause.
Not with announcements.
But with a feeling that refuses to leave.For years, I have written reports, research papers, evaluation studies, policy briefs and training manuals. My work has taken me into villages, schools, hospitals, old-age homes, juvenile homes, community centres and government institutions. It has introduced me to extraordinary people whose names may never appear in newspapers but whose courage has transformed the lives of others.
Wherever I travelled, I returned carrying stories.
Stories of women rebuilding their lives after violence.
Stories of children searching for belonging.
Stories of parents trying to understand their teenagers.
Stories of farmers protecting seeds for future generations.
Stories of widows discovering dignity again.
Stories of hope that quietly survived in the most difficult places.I realised that behind every statistic I analysed, there was a human being waiting to be heard.
Over time, another realisation emerged.
The world does not suffer from a shortage of information.
It suffers from a shortage of meaningful conversations.We have become skilled at speaking.
Less skilled at listening.Quick to react.
Slow to reflect.Certain of our opinions.
Less curious about each other’s journeys.That is why this Reading Room exists.
Not as another website.
Not as another social media page.But as a place where conversations are allowed to breathe.
Here we will explore psychology, parenting, gender, relationships, ageing, mental health, social change, purpose, grief, resilience and the many questions that quietly shape our lives.
Sometimes the conversation will be with a clinical psychologist.
Sometimes with a teacher.
Sometimes with an artist.
Sometimes with a social worker.
Sometimes with someone whose voice is rarely heard.
And sometimes, perhaps, it will simply be a conversation with ourselves.
One of our first conversations, Beyond the “Trust Fund Kid,” reminded me that before asking what young people are using, perhaps we should ask what they are missing. That single shift—from judgment to curiosity—is the spirit in which this Reading Room has been created.
I do not promise answers to every question.
I do promise thoughtful conversations.
I hope this becomes a place where research meets compassion, where lived experience matters as much as evidence, and where disagreement is welcomed with respect rather than hostility.
If even one conversation helps someone understand another human being with a little more kindness…
If one parent pauses before judging…
If one young person feels less alone…
If one reader leaves with a question worth carrying…Then this Reading Room will have fulfilled its purpose.
Thank you for walking through these doors.
Take your time.
Browse slowly.
Read deeply.
Question freely.
Return often.
Because wisdom is rarely found in hurried conclusions.
More often, it grows quietly through conversation.The doors are open. Come right in.
With warmth,
Deepali Bhattacharya
Founder, GyaniNani Reading RoomIf this conversation made you pause, it has already begun its work.
-GyaniNani Reading Room
GyaniNani's Reading Room 